Shadows of the Past
by Shawne 'til dawn
Summary: Sometimes things of the past should remain as shadows.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

**A/N**: _Aloha Everyone . . . _

_I have missed all of you. It has been a long while since I have had the time to just sit and write much of anything, Life has held me captive in its firm clutches for most of the year, but with the ending of school in a few, short days, I have finally had the time to jot down some words, which I will take the liberty of calling a "prologue". As of yet, this little blurb is just that, a blurb. But perhaps if this little piece captures your attention and you see this as a potential story-starter you can let me know. If there is a definite interest in this, then when school ends next week (Friday), I will make a determined effort to tie this blurb into a story just for you. _

_A very special thanks goes out to Brook for always encouraging me to write - I know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your gentle prodding and your many creative ideas! I love you girl. Also, please excuse any grammatical errors you may happen to find, as this piece has not yet been beta'ed except for a quick read-through by me. Mahalo for your understanding. _

_Love and light to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn_

_And now, I bring you this meager offering . . ._

**~Shadows of the Past ~**

_~Prologue~_

_1958 – Brooklyn_

_"How long you been sittin' here by your lonesome?"_

_A gentle breeze ruffled the dark curls of the teenager who sat moodily on one of the large wooden crates stacked in the back alleyway behind the neighborhood's five and dime store. The sky was already darkening, the last fiery shades of sunset already deferring to the oncoming gloom. He knew he should be in the house by now. His ma would be worried and upset. Thinking of his mother made the angry feelings he'd tried to bury rise to the surface once more. He wouldn't have been outside in the cold of the night if it weren't for his mom and her stupid ideas in the first place._

"_So what? Cat got your tongue? A little kid like you shouldn't be out here when it gets dark. It ain't safe, Davey." Green eyes peered keenly at the angry teen, the golden flecks in Joey's emerald depths glittered in the twilight as he noted the healing cuts and bruises on the younger boy's face._

_David Starsky shifted bright blue eyes to the visage of his best friend. "Shut up Joey! I ain't a kid no more. I'm thirteen, nearly fourteen, and you ain't much older than me, so don't go tellin' me where I need to be and what's safe and what's not." The curly haired boy fisted his hands and slammed them against the top of the crate to emphasize his words._

_Joey Campanella snorted at the angry retort, raising his own hands to placate the bristling boy. "Whoa now, take it easy there, tiger. I ain't your enemy, remember?" Green eyes softened as he took note of Davey's trembling lower lip, compassion flooding his heart for the hurting teen. Joey sighed and hoisted himself up to sit beside the teenager who hurriedly swiped at his leaking eyes, turning his face away until he could pull himself together. Joey could see how the younger boy inconspicuously reached for his bruised ribs, knowing his friend was still on the mend after his run-in a few weeks ago. Thinking back to the day he found Davey lying unconscious, curled up against the fence near the park . . . even now, it made Joey see red and the need to go out and do some damage to the punks who hurt the kid made the adrenalin surge through his veins._

_Joey took in a deep breath to calm himself and waited, willfully pushing down the molten hot anger that wanted to spew forth as he watched the kid, forcing himself to sit still until Davey was ready to spill it. Though he wanted to reach out and hug the curly-topped boy like he used to when they were children, the older teenager withheld his touch, instinctively knowing Davey wouldn't accept it until he was ready. Instead, Joey just made sure that the warmth of his shoulder reassuringly touched the kid's, letting Davey silently that know he was there for him. _

_He would always be there for Starsky. There was something special about Davey . . . something innocent and pure that Joey still wished he had. Davey always saw the good in things. For him, the cup of life was always half-full even when they both knew it was pitifully empty. That rare kind of rose-colored perspective needed protecting. It needed to be nurtured and cherished especially in this unforgiving world. _

_There was a time that Joey remembered being innocent like that, albeit a short time, before it was cruelly snatched away. Yet, Joey still remembered when he had a family of his own and life was wonderful and safe . . . a time of laughter and bedtime stories, a time when he could see the world from the top of his dad's shoulders and smell the comforting aroma of bread baking in the oven. But that was before his mom died of cancer and his dad took a gun to his temple. A slight shudder ran through the older teen's frame when he remembered coming home from school, finding the grisly image of his father lying in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. For Joey, life as he knew it had ended at the age of eight. He had shut down after that, not speaking a word for the next six months, watching the world behind the walls he'd erected to protect himself from the pain of living. If it wasn't for Davey's friendship and his uncle taking him in . . ._

_Joey sighed once more, trying to keep the impatience he felt inside from taking over. Sitting still like this made him remember the shadows of the past and that was something Joey tried hard not to do. Before he could stop himself from opening his mouth, he found himself saying, "So, wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head'a yours?"_

_He could have kicked himself. He knew what was going on in Davey's head. Shit, he'd been there, done that. The kid was going through hell since his dad died a few months ago. Joey had helplessly watched as little David Starsky had spiraled down into this angry stranger sitting beside him. Gone was the innocent and happy boy Joey had grown to love over the years, the boy he'd sworn to protect. He couldn't blame the kid. He, above anyone else, knew the damage that kind of loss could do to a family . . . to a son. _

_Davey sniffled and rubbed the side of his palm under his nose. "My ma said she's gonna send me to my Aunt Rosie's in California. Said I'd have'ta live there." The dark haired boy refused to look at his friend as he spoke, choosing instead to glare out into the dark of the night, his soft voice quavered and was lifted away by the breeze, but the taller boy heard it anyway._

_Joey swallowed down the lump of fear that rose in his throat at the thought of losing his best friend. "What the . . . how come she's thinking shit like that?"_

_Davey shrugged and sighed. "Ma said she don't like it when I hang out on the streets. Said only bad stuff goes on after dark."_

_Joey nodded, green eyes dark with street wisdom. "She's right, you know. You shouldn't be out here. There's a lot of creeps and assholes on the streets who like to hurt kids and we both know what kind of damage the gangs can do to . . ."_

"_But you're out here, Joey . . . and I don't want nobody to mess with ya." _

_For a moment Joey was tongue-tied at the younger boy's blurted confession. His usually fast-mouth answers deserted him as he looked into the familiar and earnest cobalt colored irises of his friend. The older boy swallowed down the emotion that flared in his heart. "Look, that ain't no reason for you to be riskin' your hide comin' out here to look for me. I can take care of myself and anyway, I always go back home once my Uncle's sleepin'."_

"_You could come home with me," Davey whispered fiercely; already knowing how futile that invitation was. Hadn't he offered the same thing to his best friend so many times before? And each time Joey refused, saying stuff like 'Campanella's don't take hand-outs'. It surprised the battered teen that this time, in the quiet dark of the alleyway, Joey just remained quiet. _

_Sighing, David Starsky reached into the pocket of his jacket and dragged out a cigarette and lighter. Sticking the butt into his mouth, the curly haired boy bent over to light it, shielding the cigarette in the cup of his hands from the chilly evening breeze. The sudden flick of the cheap plastic lighter lit up the teen's young visage, illuminating the yellowish-green bruises that marred his face as the boy shoved the tip of the rolled tobacco into the tiny flame. Bright blue eyes immediately widened as Joey knocked the cigarette from his lips._

"_What the fuck, Davey?" Joey snapped, jumping off the crate to stomp on the lit end of the cigarette. The dark wisps of smoke coming from the tiny glowing ember quickly dissipated and smoldered out from under the heel of the sixteen year old's sneaker, reminding Joey of life and how easily it could be snuffed out. "What the hell you doin', kid? I ever catch you smokin' again, I'll kick your ass!"_

_An angry scowl washed over the countenance of David Starsky as he glared at his friend in the dark. "Don't preach to me, Joey Campanella, you smoke, and you ain't my pop."_

"_Yeah, well I'm older than you . . ." Joey rationalized quietly._

"_By three fuckin' years, big deal!" David snapped back, childishly sticking out his tongue at the older boy._

_The older rolled his eyes. "Jesus, kiddo, watch your fuckin' language! Your ma's gonna blame me for sure when you try to kiss her goodnight with that trash mouth of yours." Joey sighed, running his hand through his dark golden-brown hair, feathering the long layers back from his face as he continued to peer at the sullen teen._

_A grin that was so bright suddenly lit up the darkness of the alley as Davey's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Nah, you don't' have'ta worry. My ma would never blame you. She likes you and so does Nicky. She always asks about you, Joey . . . that is, when she ain't cryin' and stuff." Davey finished softly; his mouth turning down into a frown once again, his heart aching as he remembered how tightly his mother had held his hand at the funeral where they laid his dad underground forever._

_It broke Joey's heart to see the sadness creep back into the familiar blue eyes that in the past, usually sparkled all the time like they did a few seconds ago. Joey sighed and laid his hand on the younger boy's thigh. " Look, your ma's a good lady, Davey. You're lucky you still have her in your life, so knock off your bad attitude and go on home. She's probably worried sick about ya and she don't need ya to give her any more problems than she already has. Okay?"_

"_Right," the curly haired boy replied bitterly, "She loves me so much she's gonna kick me out of her house and send me all the way to fuckin' California."_

_The older teen eyed his younger counterpart, dark green eyes scanning over the mottled bruises and scabbed cuts that blemished Davey's otherwise smooth olive-toned complexion. "M-maybe it's for the best . . . you leavin' this hell hole of a place," Joey whispered, seeing the look of hurt and confusion that flickered in the sapphire depths of his friend's eyes._

_It killed Joey to say that, to encourage the leaving of his best friend, but staying here would only end badly for the boy. Davey was young and impressionable and angry. With qualities like that, the streets would eat him up whole and spit him out in shattered, broken pieces, leaving only a bitter shell of what the kid could have amounted to had he been in a better place. Joey decided then and there that he couldn't bear to see his best friend lose that special spark of light within him. . The image of a hardened and mean Starsky was something the older boy could never stomach even more than having the kid leave the state. At least in California, he'd know that Davey was safe and away from the cruel streets of Brooklyn and that was all that Joey ever wanted for the kid. _

"_I-I can't believe you just said that . . ." Davey murmured, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "I don't wanna go, Joey."_

_Pasting a cocky grin on his face, Joey said, "Your mom's just lookin' out for ya, so what are ya griping about? At least the chicks are hot down there, lyin' spread out on the beaches for the pickin', nearly butt naked in those skimpy pieces of cloth they call a bathing suit. You don't know how lucky you are, dude!"_

"_Gross!" Starsky sniffed, dragging his sleeve across his eyes. "I don't' know what that has to do with anything. I mean there's girls here, ya know, stupid, and anyway I don't wanna leave because I . . ."_

"_You what?" Joey pushed after Davey quieted down, leaving his sentence unfinished. "Go on, what were you gonna to say?" The older teen hefted himself back up on the crate to sit beside the curly haired boy and turned to look questionably at the thirteen year old. "What is it? You do know that your mom and Nicky will be fine, right? You don't have'ta worry 'bout them because . . ."_

"_I know . . . you'll look out for them," Davey sighed softly and then turned his head to look into the familiar green orbs of his best friend. Even under the poor lighting that came from the streets, David could see the warmth and concern shining in the depths Joey's eyes. "But who's gonna worry about you?"_

_Green eyes flecked with gold, widened with understanding and then hardened as Joey turned to look away. The older boy snorted derisively and said, "You don't need to worry about me, kid. I'm good. I'm a survivor. Been on my own, well sort of, since I've been eight. I'll be fine. It's you I worry about. Don't want you fucked up like the rest of us hoodlums."_

"_M-maybe I can ask my ma if you could come too. My Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al don't have any kids of their own and maybe they'll have room enough for two?" Davey said, sapphire eyes sparkling with hope._

"_Well, you can ask, but I doubt it will go over. Hell, your relatives don't know me from Adam. I highly doubt they'd take in some stranger off the streets," Joey reasoned calmly. "'Sides, if I went with ya, who'd watch out for Nicky and your ma?"_

_The wind began to pick up, its cold fingers causing both boys to shiver in the darkness. The older boy threw his arm around the thin shoulders of the younger boy, pulling Davey closer so that they could share their meager body heat. David sniffled and then solemnly nodded. "Thanks, Joey, I know you'll take care of my family. It's just that . . . I just wish that . . ."_

"_Hey," Joey whispered, leaning closer against his curly haired friend, "What I tell ya? There's no such thing as wishes come true or fairytales, kiddo. The sooner you learn that the better. Life's a bitch, and she don't care who she's unfair to. She took my ma and pop away, and now your pop's gone too. The way I see it, bad things happen to good people all the time and the only thing you can control is how you're gonna react to it. You're a good kid, Davey. I want you to always stay that way."_

"_You're a good kid too, Joey," Davey whispered softly, "I know it in here." The young boy pointed boldly to his heart, his dark blue eyes were solemn and resolute. "I know you're good inside and I don't care what anyone else says. They can go fuck themselves!"_

_Joey snorted at the younger boy's staunch sense of loyalty and then reached out to ruffle the soft, dark curls, hiding the pain he felt inside at the thought of losing David Starsky. In so many ways, the younger boy was his only "real" family. Feeling Davey leaning closer into his touch, Joey swallowed down the sadness he felt and whispered, "You need a haircut, kiddo."_

"_Ma said that she's callin' the airlines tomorrow. Said I'll probably be outta here by the end of the week." Davey continued as if he hadn't heard one word Joey said. "I wish . . . I wish you were my real brother, Joey, then you could come with me and I could take care of ya, real good, like you do for me."_

_For a brief moment Joey's eyes filled with hot tears, which he impatiently brushed away before the younger boy could see them. Turning green eyes that now glimmered and shone in the waning lights from the streets, Joey fixed his intense gaze at the younger boy, whispering fiercely, "To me, you __**are**__ my brother, Davey; the kid brother I've always wanted. You make life worth living for me. I can't even . . . even imagine you not being here, but if it'll keep ya safe . . . that's all I care about." For a moment, both boys listened to the distant sounds of traffic and each other's quiet breathing, already feeling the impending loss of one another even though they still sat silently side by side in the cold, dark night. _

_Suddenly Joey reached into his back pocket and removed the folded switchblade he always carried with him. "Do you trust me, kid?" the older boy whispered softly, noting the wide-eyed look in the younger boy as he flipped the blade open._

_At Davey's stilted nod, Joey held out his hand, "Gimme me your hand, Davey."_

_Without hesitation, David Starsky placed his smaller hand onto Joey's, palm side up. Bright blue eyes dawned with understanding. "You're gonna make me your blood brother, ain't ya? Just like them Indians used'ta do in those cowboy movies we always watched together."_

_Joey smiled, feeling the quiet excitement and sudden anxiety in the younger boy. "Only if you want to, kiddo. It'll just be a small cut, but it'll bind us together for always."_

"_Do it," Davey urged, wanting the connection with his best friend that no miles could ever take away. "Make it happen."_

_Joey licked his bottom lip and nodded, "It'll sting a little, but nothing like what you've already lived through." At Davey's nod, Joey carefully made a small, shallow slice into the center of his friend's left palm and then did the same to his own. Without speaking, both boys clasped hands feeling the warmth of each other's blood mingling together, rivulets of red running down the wrists of both boys. It was a sacred moment. To Joey, this bonding was a poignant ending to what was most precious in his life; to Davey it was an almost magical moment filled with hope for the future. _

"_No matter where you go, you'll never be alone now," Joey whispered quietly, his green gaze locked on their still clasped hands. "I'll always be with you, and I'll always take care of you."_

"_No matter where I go, you'll be with me. I know." Davey replied; his voice filled with awe and sense of wonder. "I'll never forget you, Joey Campanella. Never. And I promise you that when I get older, I'll come back and find you."_

_Joey snickered, releasing his hold on Davey's hand, snapping out a wadded hankie from his shirt pocket to wrap around the younger boy's hand. "Man, we just sounded like a coupl'a chicks. The way you spoke just now, kid, I thought you were askin' me t' marry ya."_

_Davey laughed out loud and punched the older teen in his muscled bicep. "Right, did you ever take a look at your face? I ain't that desperate!"_

_Joey grinned and then chuckled, the familiar dimpled smile softening his features and taking away the hard lines from his handsome young face, his green-gold eyes almost seeming to melt with the affection he felt for the younger boy. Looking at his friend, Davey took a mental snapshot of Joey, so that he could always remember the older boy laughing like how he was doing at this moment. "Man, you got some long eyelashes, dude!" the curly haired boy gently scoffed._

_Batting his long, dark lashes, the sixteen year old raised his own voice to a feminine pitch and said, "Speak for yourself, honey. Look at the set you got on yourself!"_

_Both boys giggled together like girls, but the cold gusty wind soon stole their mirth as the teens shivered in the dark. "Look, it's gettin' real late. You better head on home, kid. I'll walk ya till we get to your block." Joey said, rubbing his bloody palm against his worn and faded jeans. Hopping off the crate, Joey turned to help the younger boy jump down, watching as Davey clutched his ribs. "You okay?"_

"_Yeah, I'll live," Davey said sarcastically, causing the older boy to grin again, deep dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. _

"_Shit, with an attitude like that, I doubt any chick will marry you!" Joey teased._

"_Just shut up, meathead," Davey grinned, snickering as the older boy threw his arm around his shoulders. "Hey careful where you touch, Campanella. I don't give out on first dates."_

"_Jerk," Joey murmured fondly as both boys began the walk home to Davey's house. "You'll be givin' out soon enough, kid!" The dark of the night eventually swallowed up both figures in its encompassing shadows, but the older boy's voice could still be heard if one was listening to their conversation. 'Just remember Davey, I'm older than you and I can still kick your ass . . ."_

_~finis~_

A/N: You like? Let me know . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

**A/N**: _Aloha Everyone . . . _

_It is finally summer and school has been done for about two weeks now. Amid trying to get my household in order, and taking my mom to doctor appointments (she has come to visit from Texas), I have also been trying to get back into the swing of writing and have completed this first chapter to that prologue I posted earlier on. Thank you to those who took the time to express an interest in this piece. As of yet, I don't really know where this story is going—just letting my rusty fingers move where they please. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Also, please excuse any grammatical errors you may happen to find, as this piece has not yet been beta'ed except for a quick read-through by me. Mahalo again for your understanding. Hope to hear from you all soon! _

_ Love and light to you always, dear readers . . . Shawne 'til _Dawn

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

Suddenly Joey reached into his back pocket and removed the folded switchblade he always carried with him. "Do you trust me, kid?" the older boy whispered softly, noting the wide-eyed look in the younger boy as he flipped the blade open.

At Davey's stilted nod, Joey held out his hand, "Gimme me your hand, Davey."

Without hesitation, David Starsky placed his smaller hand onto Joey's, palm side up. Bright blue eyes dawned with understanding. "You're gonna make me your blood brother, ain't ya? Just like them Indians used'ta do in those cowboy movies we always watched together."

Joey smiled, feeling the quiet excitement and sudden anxiety in the younger boy. "Only if you want to, kiddo. It'll just be a small cut, but it'll bind us together for always."

"Do it," Davey urged, wanting the connection with his best friend that no miles could ever take away. "Make it happen."

Joey licked his bottom lip and nodded, "It'll sting a little, but nothing like what you've already lived through." At Davey's nod, Joey carefully made a small, shallow slice into the center of his friend's left palm and then did the same to his own. Without speaking, both boys clasped hands feeling the warmth of each other's blood mingling together, rivulets of red running down the wrists of both boys. It was a sacred moment. To Joey, this bonding was a poignant ending to what was most precious in his life; to Davey it was an almost magical moment filled with hope for the future.

"No matter where you go, you'll never be alone now," Joey whispered quietly, his green gaze locked on their still clasped hands. "I'll always be with you, and I'll always take care of you."

"No matter where I go, you'll be with me. I know." Davey replied; his voice filled with awe and sense of wonder. "I'll never forget you, Joey Campanella. Never. And I promise you that when I get older, I'll come back and find you . . ."

**~Shadows of the Past ~**

~ Chapter One~

_Bay City, 1976_

"Huh!"

Pale blue eyes peered over the top of the typewriter and the report that was rolled in it, to glance over at the curly haired detective who sat at his desk with his feet propped up on one corner, nose buried behind a newspaper. The rustling of the paper made Hutch feel irritable, knowing Starsky was waiting on him to finish the document he was painstakingly working on.

"What?" the blond snapped, scowling at his partner.

Dark blue, sapphire eyes peeked over the top of the 'Bay City Daily'. "What, what?" the brunet replied calmly.

Hutch rolled his eyes. "You said, 'What', so I'm asking you 'What?'"

Starsky folded the paper and then grinned his dazzling smile at his grumpy partner. "I didn't say, 'What,' I said, 'Huh!"

Hutch shook his head with disgust and rubbed tiredly at the creases on his forehead. "You know, Starsky, you always know just what to say to give me a headache."

The dark haired cop snorted. "Sorry pal, just finding this article interesting 's all. It's about the newly elected governor of California."

"Peterson?"

"Yup."

"Yeah?" Hutch replied, one brow lifting with interest. "What does it say?"

Starsky opened up the newspaper once more and perused the article. "Says here that there's speculation about the votes. That Robert Peterson might'a got elected illegally."

"Huh!" Hutch murmured.

Starsky snickered. "See? You doing it too."

"Yeah, well, what else is new," Hutch cynically grumbled. "Somehow everything these days are illegal one way or another. Bet it says that people think Giovanni has connections to the mob somehow."

"No fair, Blondie. Did you read this article already?" Starsky asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"Nope," Hutch said, returning his concentration to the typewriter he was battling with. "Same old story . . ."

"Well, there's been some talk that Peterson's political advisor and campaign manager, Frank Giovanni, a former lawyer, has ties to the syndicate. Seems Giovanni used to specialize in defending members of the Mafia on the East Coast," the dark haired detective paraphrased as he scanned the contents of the article.

"Well that doesn't prove anything," Hutch said disgustedly. "I hate these kinds of journalists who write damaging articles by pure speculation alone and with no proof, hiding behind the freedom of speech acts. Makes me just wanna arrest them sometimes!"

"Hey," Starsky said quietly, "Now where's the Hutch that I know, huh? The blue-eyed, blond haired sentimentalist who'd give his last dollar to the neighborhood drug addict?"

"Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up!"

The brunet snickered, sapphire blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "You know pal, you are so grumpy these days. You need to get laid or something." Starsky grinned and then laughed out loud as Hutch flipped him the bird.

oo~00~oo

Starsky waved goodbye to his longtime friend and partner, chuckling to himself as he fumbled with the lock on his front door, watching as the old and battered LTD grumbled loudly down the road, red taillights flashing in the distance. "Get a new car, Hutchinson!" Starsky mumbled with a smirk. Shaking his head as walked in and closed the door behind him, the dark haired cop thought fondly of his blond counterpart.

After leaving Metro, Starsky insisted on taking his partner out to dinner at some hole in the wall Italian joint. Though it was nothing to look at, the small place boasted of the best pasta served in Bay City. Good food and better wine pulled the blond from his grumpiness; and by the end of the evening Hutch was in great spirits, laughing and bantering with his dark haired counterpart, leaving Starsky feeling happy inside. Hutch wasn't meant to be moody and despondent, yet the sensitive blond often took the burdens of the world to heart and it reflected in his disposition towards his partner.

With a huge yawn, the curly haired detective took off his white windbreaker, unsnapped his holster and gun, and hung it on his closet doorframe. Scratching his head, Starsky made his way over to the bedroom and began to strip off his dark blue tee-shirt. Pulling the article over his head, the brunet wearily tossed it on the bed behind him and then began to unbuckle his belt before the ringing of his phone stopped him from yanking down his jeans.

Yawning once more, the tired cop sat on the edge of his bed and reached over for the handle of the phone set that sat on the small wooden bedside table. "H'lo? You miss me already, dummy?" Starsky asked playfully, expecting to hear the familiar snort from his flaxen haired friend.

"Davey? That you?" a smoke-rough voice on the other end quietly asked. There was something familiar in the timbre and intonation of the voice and it stirred feelings in the brunet's heart that he thought he'd laid to rest a long time ago.

"Who's askin'?" Starsky queried softly, sitting up straighter for some unknown reason.

A quiet chuckle came from the other end of the line. "Who do you think . . . kiddo?"

"Kiddo?" the brunet frowned, his eyes suddenly widening in dawning recognition. There was no way . . . it couldn't be . . .

"Joey? That you?" Starsky asked softly, his voice was but a whisper.

A brief silence made the dark haired detective anxiously clutch the phone tighter to his ear, before the voice on the other end finally replied with a quiet snort, "Thought blood brothers were supposed to always recognize each other, no matter the years they've been apart."

Starsky swallowed hard as mixed feelings rose within him . . . shock, disbelief, suspicion, jumbled up with hope, relief, happiness, and flaring hot anger. The image of his best friend flashed across his mind's eye; a young teenager on the verge of manhood, a dark alleyway, the glint of a switchblade, a bloody palm swiping against torn blue jeans. If the voice on the other end of the line hadn't made mention of that sacred moment in time, Starsky might have thought he was being set up somehow, or that maybe he was tired enough to be imagining this whole conversation. Joey Campanella, after all, was a shadow from his past, a poignantly sad memory that he'd put to rest a long time ago.

"You there, kid?" Joey asked softly; and though nearly two decades had passed since he'd last seen his boyhood friend, Starsky could still make out the concern he'd heard when it came to his welfare in the older man's voice. "Davey, you okay? You didn't up and die on me from the shock of my return, did'ya?" The voice was tinged with undisguised humor.

Starsky snorted, the sudden grin he wore made his dark blue eyes twinkle in the dim lighting that came from his bedside lamp. "Well, I guess you could be him. I mean, you still seem to have that wise ass mouth I used'ta know so well."

The quiet chuckling that came through the receiver sent a flood of warmth throughout the brunet's body. Clearing the lump from his throat, Starsky asked, "So, if you're really who you claim to be, then tell me what my favorite candy was?" The dark haired cop smiled when he heard the snort of disbelief from the other end of the line.

"You gotta be kiddin' me, kid. What are you . . . six?"

"I need more proof," Starsky simply said, his smile widening as he waited.

"You mean me mentioning that whole blood brother thing we did behind the five and dime store ain't proof enough?"

"I'm waitin' . . ."

"Chocolate. A Hershey's Bar. That's what you usually got. But you and I both know that your all time favorite sweet was just plain, old, boring donuts."

"J-Joey?" Starsky stammered, slowly getting to his feet, unconsciously pacing back and forth along the length of his bed. The streetwise cop quickly cleared his throat as he heard the hint of vulnerability in his usually strong voice.

Another soft, familiar snicker could be heard on the other end of the receiver and it made the curly haired detective twitch his lips and curl them up into a hesitant smile.

"What the . . . how is this poss . . . where the hell you been, man? I thought . . . I went back to find you before I left for 'Nam, but you were . . . they said you died . . ." Starsky's quiet voice was broken and raw, fading out into a whisper at the very end.

There was another long pause before Joey softly replied, "Yeah, heard you came lookin' for me. I'm sorry I wasn't around then, but I'm here now. Wanted to see you so badly, kid, but circumstances being what they were back then . . ."

"So what, you never heard of a phone?" Starsky asked sarcastically, trying to keep the anger he felt from creeping into his voice. The hurt of abandonment and the pain of loss he'd thought he'd dealt with years ago rose to the surface of his heart. Logically he knew of course that Joey didn't up and abandon him per se by going off and dying, but as a young eighteen-year-old kid, it felt the same nonetheless. The shock of learning of Joey's death from his own family had left a permanent empty hole in Starsky's heart that had only started mending once he'd found Hutch.

"Oh god, don't tell me you're pissed?" The amusement in Joey's voice grated on the detective's nerves.

"Yeah I'm pissed . . ." Starsky reluctantly admitted, feeling a bit foolish for being upset. "Ma said you died . . . got gunned down on the streets and . . ."

"And what? You're pissed at me for dyin'?" Joey's deep voice raised a notch higher in disbelief and then a chuckle rumbled out of the older man before he could prevent it.

Starsky rolled his eyes in annoyance, but the sound of his friend's laughter made the dark haired cop reluctantly grin. ''Yeah, well now you ain't dead after all, so I'm entitled to feel a little bit peeved! I mean . . . what? It's only been almost twenty years since I've last seen you're ugly mug, Campanella!" The humor left Starsky's voice as the reality of the situation sank in once more. "What the hell happened to ya? If you weren't dead all this time, then where . . ."

"It's a long story, kid . . ." Joey interjected softly, "And hey, it's been only a little over eighteen years, but who's countin' right?"

After a moment's pause, Starsky drew his brows together in a frown as he realized the explanation he was waiting for wasn't forthcoming. "No way, uh-uh, long story my ass! You ain't gettin' away with that lame excuse, you jerk! Where the hell have you been all these years and why haven't you called, especially if you knew I came back to look for you?"

Joey laughed good-naturedly, the sound of it warming Starsky's heart. "Jerk? Hey . . . watch it, kiddo. I may be a few years older than you, but I can still kick your ass!"

Starsky smiled at that familiar phrase, remembering how Joey used to always take great pleasure in reminding his younger friend of his superior physical prowess.

"Riiight! Well, I ain't a puny runt no more, Campanella," Starsky laughed, remembering their boyish bantering that made them cackle with laughter as kids, bringing them even closer if it were possible back then. "Now that you're finally "alive", maybe one day, we could actually see who can kick whose ass?"

"Maybe we'll find that out sooner than you think," Joey threw out casually. At Starsky's sudden silence, the older man chuckled into the phone and then quieted down, his voice lost its mirth as Joey said, "Look kid, I'm gonna be in your neck of the woods for a few days and I wanted to see you, if you're not too busy that is. Was hoping maybe I could crash at your place if it ain't gonna be too much of an inconvenience for ya. And yeah, I know you got a lotta questions that need answers so . . ."

"Of course you can stay here, you idiot. Where are you?" Starsky asked, quickly reaching across the bed for his discarded tee-shirt. "I can come pick you up."

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'll come to your place."

"My place? You don't even know where I . . ." Starsky quieted, his mind racing as thoughts mingled together, drawing his dark brows back into a frown. "Wait a minute . . . you know where I live?"

Joey chuckled. "You might not have seen my ugly mug for a long time, kiddo, but I've definitely seen yours. I may have been only sixteen at the time, but I'm a man of word. Been watchin' out for ya like I promised." At Starsky's stunned silence, Joey Campanella snorted. "In any case, I'll be over in an hour or less. See ya then, Davey."

Starsky opened his mouth to ask the many questions that raced around in his head, but he lifted the receiver from his ear instead when he heard the quiet click on the other end. Staring at the phone for a second in disbelief, the dark haired cop silently hung up the phone and then shook his head incredulously saying, "What the hell?"

oo~0~oo

Starsky turned off the vacuum and glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. Only forty minutes had passed since he'd hung up the phone, yet it seemed the call came hours ago. The handsome detective wiped his sweaty palms against the side of his jeans, the thought of seeing his childhood friend whom he thought dead for nearly two decades made Starsky feel nervous and anxious inside at the same time.

Lifting his left palm, the brunet peered intently at it, seeing the nearly invisible scar made by a sharp knife in a dark alleyway so long ago. Starsky clenched his left hand into a fist, his mind drifting back, remembering the fear he felt at the thought of his impending departure, leaving behind all that he knew and loved. If it hadn't been for Joey . . .

God, that seemed like a lifetime ago. Pulling the vacuum cord from the wall socket the brunet thought about calling Hutch, feeling the sudden need to have the reassuring presence of the blond with him, but Starsky decided against it. If Joey was staying with him for a while, there'd be plenty of time for Hutch to get to know his boyhood friend. The dark haired cop busied himself by winding the cord along the back of the vacuum, rolling the appliance away to where he stored it. The detective shut the closet door and turned, allowing his eyes to drift aimlessly around his spotless living room. There hadn't been much to clean, but for some reason the thought of seeing Joey Campanella again after all these years made Starsky feel jumpy inside and cleaning up his apartment was one way to put his nervous energy to good use.

Starsky sighed and dragged a hand through his dark curls, bright blue eyes shifting to the front door as a quiet knock was heard from outside the portal. Dusting his shirt self-consciously and then feeling foolish for his actions, Starsky quickly made his way over to the door and opened it.

The dark haired cop swallowed back the sudden emotion he felt as he let his eyes roam over the frame of the tall man standing before him. Even after all these years, Starsky would know him.

It was Joey.

Joey Campanella.

Same green eyes flecked with gold and framed by ridiculously long dark lashes, softened, as he beheld his curly haired childhood friend. He was older of course, taller, but still ruggedly handsome. Gone now, were the familiar dirty blond locks Joey sprouted as a teen. Over the years Joey's hair had grown darker, but Starsky could still see a hint of gold in the burnished colored tendrils that the older man now cropped short. The cut was stylish and it became his friend, adding a distinguishing air to the six foot one man who grinned; well remembered dimples quickly peeping out at the corners of his mouth.

"Finished eyeing me up, yet?" Joey smirked, his emerald eyes twinkling. "Think I can come in now, kid, or are you plannin' on me sleepin' out here on your porch?"

Starsky slowly grinned, his face reflecting the suppressed emotion he felt inside as he gazed at his longtime friend. The dark haired detective suddenly reached across the threshold and pulled the older man into his embrace, closing his eyes as he felt Joey's muscular arms tightly embracing him back. Starsky swallowed hard as memories, like shadows, played a movie in his mind's eye of times spent together in the past . . .

_Joey and him racing their bikes in and out of traffic, horns honking and curses being shouted angrily in their direction . . ._

_Joey teaching him how to catch a baseball with the old mitt he'd bequeathed to the younger boy when he left for L.A . . ._

_Joey wiping furiously at the hot tears that leaked from his eyes as his dad's casket was being lowered to the ground . . ._

_Joey laughing raucously as he tried to explain to his young friend that his dick leaking at night was normal and that no, he didn't have some kind of a disease, that he was just experiencing something called 'wet dreams' . . ._

_Joey holding him tight as he sobbed out the pain and shock of losing his own father to the streets . . ._

_Joey's soft words of comfort as he gingerly held his young friend against his chest after finding Davey beaten, and left for dead near the park . . . _

_Joey slapping the cigarette from his lips just as he lit it up, warning him that he'd kick his ass if he ever smoked again . . ._

_The warmth of Joey's palm under his, the strength of the older boy's long fingers holding firmly as the sting of the blade sliced smoothly into the skin of his hand . . ._

_The comforting and reassuring words spoken in reverence, "No matter where you go, you'll never be alone now . . . I'll always be with you, and I'll always take care of you."_

"Hey," the soft whisper broke the reel of memories as Joey gently nudged his curly haired friend back a few steps, holding Starsky at arm's length to peruse the detective's countenance. Green eyes, filled with the warmth of affection, locked onto the blue of the sea as Joey asked with concern, "You okay?"

Starsky nodded, reaching out to squeeze his friend's shoulders in return. "Yeah, I'm sorry, man, it's just . . ."

"Yeah, I know. It's like seein' a ghost, huh? It blows me away too. Little Davey Starsky here in the flesh!" Joey grinned, squeezing Starsky's shoulders before stepping into the detective's living room. A low whistled emitted from the taller man's lips as he eyed his surroundings. "Nice pad you got, Davey. Looks like you done alright for yourself as a cop. I'm proud of ya!"

"You know I'm a cop?" Starsky asked, closing the front door with a soft click; dark sapphire orbs tracking the lithe movements of his childhood friend as Joey slowly wandered about his apartment.

Joey paused in his perusal of a model ship that Starsky was obviously working on, turning bright green eyes towards his friend. "Detective First Class, right? I told ya, didn't I? I've been keepin' track of ya like I promised I would. You startin' a new hobby?" Joey asked nodding in the direction of the ship.

"Maybe," Starsky absently murmured as he made his way to the kitchen, opening the 'fridge to take out two cold bottles of beer. Handing a longneck to Joey, the dark haired cop eyed his friend and said, "So you tellin' me that all this time you been watchin' my back and you never bothered to fuckin' call? What the hell, Joey?"

The ruggedly handsome man from Brooklyn grinned and silently took the bottle, tipping it back to take a long swig of the cold brew. Sighing with pleasure, Joey chuckled, his laughter deep and resonant as his green eyes sparkled with humor. "Ya still got that trash mouth on ya, huh kiddo? Can't believe your Aunt Rosie never washed that crap outta ya by now."

"Don't gimme this bullshit small talk, Campanella," Starsky said, barely keeping his irritation in check as he reclined back on the sofa opposite his friend. "I ain't a kid no more, Joey. Ya can't pull the wool over my eyes like you used'ta. You don't know what I went through when I found out that you were gone, that you died before I could come back for ya." Dark blue eyes never left the familiar green that looked away at the undisguised pain reflected in Starsky's gaze.

The handsome detective audibly sighed knowing he was making his guest feel suddenly uncomfortable. Reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose as he tried to stem the headache that had been forming since the phone call, Starsky quietly said, "Look man, I just . . . I deserve some answers, okay, and I want them now!"

Joey nodded, silently agreeing with his friend, knowing the anguish and pain his long silence and absence had caused; dark green eyes never wavered as he continued to gaze seriously at the dark haired detective. "I know you must have a lot of questions and you do deserve answers, Davey. I'm here, kid, and I'm not goin' anywhere, so ask away."

_To Be Continued . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

The handsome detective audibly sighed knowing he was making his guest feel suddenly uncomfortable. Reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose as he tried to stem the headache that had been forming since the phone call, Starsky quietly said, "Look man, I just . . . I deserve some answers, okay, and I want them now!"

Joey nodded, silently agreeing with his friend, knowing the anguish and pain his long silence and absence had caused; dark green eyes never wavered as he continued to gaze seriously at the dark haired detective. "I know you must have a lot of questions and you do deserve answers, Davey. I'm here, kid, and I'm not goin' anywhere, so ask away."

~ Chapter Two~

Starsky leaned forward, elbows on thighs, the neck his bottle pinched loosely between fingers hung down between his knees as he quizzically eyed his longtime friend, silently wondering what was going on behind those clear, emerald green eyes.

Golden flecks sparkled as Joey suddenly grinned, dimples flashing, giving the taller man the carefree appearance of youth once more. "Why the serious look, kid, I thought you'd be happy to see my ugly mug once more."

"I am," Starsky said softly, "You don't know how . . . it's just that it's been years, ya know? I mean, I thought you died a long time ago and to have you sitting here on my couch, sharin' a beer with me . . . it's just . . ."

Joey snorted. "Yeah, I know it's a shock, but it's a good shock, aint' it?"

"When I turned eighteen," Starsky spoke quietly, "I went back to Brooklyn to find ya like I promised you I would. Ma told me then, that you died two years after I left for California. She said she couldn't tell me when she first heard about it since I was finally adjusting to my new life and all; and at fifteen, she said I wasn't old enough to deal with more grief, that I wouldn't understand."

"Davey . . ." Joey whispered, reaching out to touch his friend on the knee, "Don't . . ."

"You can't imagine what it felt like, hearing that you were gone . . ." Starsky continued, his voice soft and monotone, as if he were lost in a memory. "I guess I should'a known something bad had happened t'ya when your letters stopped comin'. Uncle Al wouldn't let me use the phone to call, said it was too expensive; and whenever ma called, she just played it like you forgot about me since you were older and . . ."

"I never forgot about you, kid. Not ever." Joey murmured; his green eyes were dark with emotions that Starsky could see his friend struggling with. "Just before I turned eighteen, my uncle forced me to go to Europe, and then to parts of Asia for schoolin'. In return for my obedience, he promised me that he would keep an eye out for you and your folks . . . that's the only way I would go. He said if I didn't do as I was told, he wouldn't stick his neck out for the Starsky family no more. He also advised that it wouldn't be wise t'write t'ya once I left 'cause . . ."

"Yeah, well he's dead now," Starsky interjected bitterly. "He can't control ya anymore. I always hated that your ma was a Durniak. If he hadn't been your uncle, you could'a come live with us. Maybe your life would've been different . . . maybe . . ."

Joey sighed audibly making Starsky's wistful voice trail off, and then he took a long swig of beer before locking eyes once more to dark cobalt orbs that were filled with anguish. "Don't do this, kid," the older man spoke softly, wearily, as if this discussion was something he'd played out many times in the past and had already resolved it in his own head and heart.

Joey Campanella snorted softly shaking his head, "You're still the same, Davey. I can tell that being a cop hasn't hardened that soft, optimistic heart of yours. I told ya a long time ago that life ain't fair, she don't play by the rules. You need to accept that. I have."

The taller man smiled and said, "Uncle Joe might not have been the typical uncle, like your Uncle Al, but he tried to take care of me the only way he knew how. He loved my mom, was devastated when she died; and when my pop killed himself, Uncle Joe didn't hesitate to take me in. He didn't have'ta ya know, but he did. He always used'ta say that the Durniaks' should'a gone into the glue business because come what may, we Durniak's always stick together."

"Yeah? So where were ya when he died? You never made it back to the funeral." Starsky replied sarcastically.

Joey snorted. "I was there, kiddo. Who do you think paid for his tombstone and made sure it read, 'Here lies Joey Durniak—the end of an era'."

"How did you know he wanted that on this marker?" Starsky asked incredulously. "He said that to me as he was dyin' in my arms . . ."

"Uncle Joe always made it clear that he'd wanted that engraving on his headstone. Made me promise him several times that I would do that for him when he died." Joey smiled, dimples deepening, as his green eyes grew soft with the memories he had of his uncle. Joey sighed, emerald orbs shifting to look into the sapphire blue ones he'd never forgotten. The taller man said softly, "I saw both you and your partner at his funeral service. I know it would have meant a lot to him had he'd known you were there. And by the way, thanks for what you tried t'do for Uncle Joe, for tryin' to keep him safe."

"Yeah, well we fucked up. Despite what Hutch and I tried to do, he still died from a sniper's bullet." Starsky said softly.

"Don't blame yourself, kid," Joey replied, clearly seeing the regret in his friend's eyes. "Uncle Joey was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He always knew a bullet would end his life; he had too many enemies not to believe that. Uncle Joey always said that I would probably end up that way too, now that everyone knew he was raisin' me and all. Guess that's part of the reason he sent me away – just like your ma did for you, he wanted to keep me safe."

Joey sighed softly; his green eyes were soft and reflective as he stared at the small scar on the palm of his left hand. "For a while I lived with several of Uncle Joe's business acquaintances in Italy and France. He wanted them to educate me on some of the finer parts of the business, hoping one day I'd take over his corporation. Was bumped around from one place to another in Asia and after they'd taught me all they knew, I came back to the States. I was twenty-eight by then, and I remember the first thought that I had gettin' off that plane was of you. You were never far from my mind, Davey, no matter where I went you were with me. Roaming around Europe and Asia, I saw so many things that I'd wish you could have seen. The Eiffel Tower, Rome, the morning mists forming over the rice paddies . . . you were there with me every time." A soft smile tweaked Joey's lips as he continued, "And after putting out some 'feelers' when I got home, I found out that you had become a cop. Been keepin' tabs on ya ever since."

Starsky looked down at the bottle he held in his hand, his thumbnail absently digging at and peeling off the softened label surrounding the brown glass. His heart ached for his longtime friend, his mind reeling back to the young teen who had played such an important part of his younger life. Joey was the big brother he'd always wanted and admired. It pained the dark haired cop greatly to know that his friend had been sent away to live with virtual strangers, while he, on the other hand, had the comfort of living with family and friends.

"I'm sorry." Starsky whispered; dark lashes hiding the emotions he felt for the older man.

"For what?" Joey asked; tilting his head to one side as he quizzically eyed the curly haired cop. A small tic appeared on the side of Campanella's chiseled jaw and his soft voice grew rough with feeling as the handsome man growled, "I don't need your pity, Davey."

"No. I don't pity you, Joey," the curly haired cop quickly corrected. "What I'm sorry for is that I didn't recognize your ugly mug at the funeral." Starsky said with a soft snort, knowing his perceptive friend knew him well enough to know that he was just covering up his emotional slip.

Apparently Starsky was right because Joey chuckled softly and reached over to affectionately ruffle the dark unruly curls of the detective, playing along with his longtime friend. "It ain't your fault, kiddo. You didn't see me because I didn't want to be seen, and secondly, I don't think you even looked for me because you thought I had kicked the bucket a long time ago, so knock off that sad, long face, will'ya?" The handsome green-eyed man snorted softly as he eyed his younger friend, "Jesus man, you look good. I know I saw you briefly at the funeral, but in my head, you'll always be that kid I said goodbye to in Brooklyn." Joey grinned, "And I can see that some things have never changed."

"Yeah? Like what?" Starsky grinned, blue eyes lighting up with the fondness he felt for the older man.

Joey grinned back, green eyes sparkling with mirth. "You might be an old man now, little Davey Starsky, but you still need a damn haircut!"

oo~0~oo

Starsky sat in the red and white Torino parked outside of Venice Place, waiting patiently for his partner. Hutch was running late but the dark haired cop didn't mind at all, for it gave him time to speculate on his late night visitor. The thought of having Joey Campanella back in his life filled the brunet with mixed emotions.

The detective rubbed his tired, red eyes. He had tossed and turned all night long, cognizant of the fact that his boyhood friend was unbelievably lying just a few feet away on his living room couch. After haggling over who got dibs to the couch, Joey finally won by throwing out his trump card, saying he'd get a hotel room after all, if he didn't get his way about the sleeping accommodations.

Though it had already been in the wee hours of the morning when he and Joey had finally turned in, Starsky's mind refused to stop racing, quickly receding to past memories he'd thought he'd buried, only to rush back to the present and the man sleeping in his living room. It was hard to believe that Joey Campanella was alive and well after all these years and though Starsky had tried hard to pry into his friend's life, wanting to know what Joey did for a living, the handsome older man constantly skirted the issue, laughing off the brunet's persistence . . .

"_Man, you really are a cop," Joey chuckled, "You're like a dog with a bone on this one. What's so important about knowing what I do for a livin'?"_

"_Maybe because I know for a fact what your uncle did for a living," Starsky said quietly. "Guess I don't wanna have to find out one day that we sit on opposite sides of the fence, Joey."_

_The taller man sighed and ran a hand through his short golden brown locks, green eyes warm and speculative as he suddenly grinned at his curly haired friend. "So, say I wasn't a doctor or a respectable business man, would this affect our friendship? That sort'a hurts my feelings, kid. I mean it shouldn't matter what I do for a livin', right? Friends shouldn't judge each other based on their employment. It don't matter to me none that you're a cop. In fact kiddo, I'm proud of ya. Always knew you would grow up to be a man who'd stand up for the right things in life. I've always wanted that for you, Davey . . . wanted you to stay on the straight and narrow . . ."_

"_I know," Starsky replied, his voice soft and sad. "I remember you used'ta tell me that a lot . . . that if you stand for nothing in your life then you'd fall every time, and that you always wanted me to be on the right side of the law. Do you remember tellin' me that?" At Joey's slight nod, the dark haired cop continued. "So I guess what I'm askin' ya is if you followed your own advice? Did you stand up to your uncle . . . or did you fall?"_

_Joey forced a grin; making his dimples appear once more; and though his green eyes reflected the fondness he felt for the curly haired man sitting across from him, Starsky could see the hint of frost that came into it's emerald depths. _

"_Did I fall?" the ruggedly handsome man murmured almost to himself, dark, long lashes closing for a second to mask his answer before Joey lifted them once more, his gaze was now distant and closed off. "I don't think so, not really."_

"_Yeah?" Starsky pushed, "So then why don't you spill it. Tell me what you do."_

_Joey Campanella sighed and then chuckled softly. "You ain't gonna let me get some sleep until you know that answer, huh?"_

_Starsky snorted, dark blue eyes twinkling with affection. "Tell ya what, I'll let you use my bed tonight instead of that couch you're sittin' on if you tell me. Believe me, old man; you'd probably thank me in the morning. Ask Hutch, he'll tell ya."_

_"Old man, huh?" Joey grinned and then said, "Hutch, he's your partner, the blond guy I saw at Uncle Joe's funeral, right?" At Starsky's nod, the older man continued. "I like him. I mean I don't know him or anything, but if he helped to keep your ass safe on the streets all this time, then I count him as my friend too."_

_Starsky grinned and winked at his boyhood buddy, inwardly pleased at Joey's quick acceptance of Hutch. "You'll like him, Joey. You'll see. He's a good guy like you." The dark haired cop grew suddenly serious as he eyed the man sitting across from him. "You know Campanella, ya might not have thought so, but I always listened to whatever words of wisdom you'd try to impart on me when we were kids."_

_Joey chuckled, "Right. Like that time I told you to stay off the streets after dark and the punk gangs got ya . . . or the time that . . ."_

"_Hey," Starsky interjected, his voice quiet and serious. "I remember a lot of stuff you tried to shove down my throat . . . especially how you used'ta always tell me to choose my friends wisely, 'cause who I hung out with, is who I would eventually become."_

_Joey's closed his opened mouth, green eyes wide with wonder as Starsky continued, "I never forgot that—what you said. Guess that's what kept me clean and on the straight and narrow all these many years. Hutch, he's an old softie, like you. He doesn't know it, but Blondie really helped me get over the loss of you . . . I mean, since I thought you were dead for all of these years."_

_Joey's eyes grew soft at that last comment, hearing the pain in the quietly spoken words. "I'm sorry you suffered, kid. It was never my intention to hurt you by stayin' away . . . only to protect you."_

_Dark blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as Starsky stared into the emerald orbs of his friend, "Protect me . . . from what? Your job? The one you don't want to tell me about?" _

_The taller man sighed and then began to chuckle, shaking his head with amazement. "Man, you always this stubborn or what? Bet Hutch could tell me some stories 'bout that hard head of yours."_

"_Don't," Starsky said quietly, his voice weary and rough, dark lashes lowering to cover the intense color of his blue irises. "Don't' bullshit with me anymore, Joey, by changin' the subject again. Whatever it is, man, you can tell me . . ." _

_Starsky could see a small tic appear in the strong jaw line of his longtime friend when he lifted his head to look at Joey. The older man said nothing as he got to his feet and walked over to the window to look out at the quiet street below. When Joey's softly spoken words finally drifted across the room, the dark haired cop could hear the irritation and anger in his voice._

"_You know kid, I resent the fact that you would choose this time to sit in judgment on me just because of my occupation. It shouldn't matter what I do, but if it's so important to ya, I'll tell ya. I'm a bounty hunter, okay?" The handsome man turned to glare over his shoulder at the curly haired cop, smoldering green-gold eyes connecting to cobalt blue. "I've done some things in my line of work that I ain't proud of, Davey, but hell, it's the nature of my job." _

_Joey turned and sighed, dragging a fist through his dark golden brown hair, broad shoulders dropping in discouragement. "I know you must be disappointed. I wish I could've come back and told ya that I'm some kind of fancy lawyer or doctor, that I found the cure to cancer or won the Nobel Peace Award, but I ain't done none of that in all these years, okay? I roam around the streets lookin' for assholes to beat up and bring down . . . just like I did back in Brooklyn. Nothing's changed for me, Davey. The only thing that's different is that I get paid now to do what I'm good at." Dark lashes lowered to hide familiar green eyes, but not before Starsky saw the shame and humiliation reflected in those deep, emerald orbs._

_The handsome brunet rose to his feet and took a few steps in the direction of his boyhood friend. "Hey," Starsky whispered. "Nothin' ya do could make me think any less of you. Joey." The taller man lifted his head to stare into a sea of sapphire that grew warm with affection as the cop neared him, reaching out to lay his hand upon Joey's shoulder. _

"_When we were kids, I looked up t'ya, like you were some kinda hero or somethin'." Starsky chucked, "Must'a been outta my mind to think that, but I did." The dark haired cop grinned wider as he heard the soft snort that came from the taller man. _

_Growing serious once more, Starsky continued quietly, squeezing the muscled shoulder of the man standing before him, "I guess I just want for you, what you've always wanted for me . . . to be a man who stood up for what's right, someone who walked the straight and narrow. And when you think about it, in a way, me and you, we do the same things. We get scums off the street. The only difference in our jobs is that I just got a badge to hide behind that's all."_

_Joey smirked and then reached out to ruffle the dark curls, "You're alright, kid, ya know that? And as your official "hero", I want ya t'know that I'm still proud of ya."_

_Starsky laughed, blushing profusely at his sentimentalism, "Hero, my ass, Campanella. You're gonna hold that soapy scene against me for the rest of my life I bet."_

"_Nah," Joey said graciously, "We'll call it even if I get the couch, and if I don't, I'm gonna walk outta here and get some shut eye at the nearest hotel . . ."_

A sudden, loud rap on the door of the passenger side startled the curly haired cop out of his ruminations and he grinned widely at pale blue eyes that peered at him through the window. Hutch chuckled with humor and yanked the door open.

"You okay, buddy?" the handsome blond asked as he slid in beside his partner. "You daydreaming, or crying, or what?"

"What? Cryin'?" Starsky reiterated, sitting up straighter as Hutch slammed the door. "Hey watch it, Blondie. My baby don't take kindly to abuse. We've both see what you do to your car."

"Yeah, crying," Hutch said, totally ignoring Starsky's comment in regards to the red and white tomato he was now sitting in. "Your eyes are all red. Looks like you've been shedding a few tears . . . hope it wasn't for me. Sorry I took so long, but I wanted to look my best for ya!" Hutch smirked, light blue eyes sparkling with mirth. At his usually witty partner's lack of response the blond frowned with concern, "Hey, you okay, Starsk?"

"'m fine," the brunet said, turning the ignition. "Just had a late night visitor 's all." 

"Yeah? You mean after I dropped you off?" At Starsky's nod, Hutch's frown deepened. "Male or female?"

Starsky snorted, "Wouldn't you like t'know."

"Aw c'mon, Starsk," Hutch pressed, "Who came over?"

Starsky turned the wheel, choosing to ignore his partner for the moment as he merged into traffic fronting Venice Place. The blond detective reached over to impatiently flick at the brunet's ear. "Well?" Hutch asked.

The dark haired cop turned to glance at his partner and then grinned. "It's a long story, Blintz, so shut your mouth and open your ears and I'll tell ya . . ."

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

"Aw c'mon, Starsk," Hutch pressed, "Who came over?"

Starsky turned the wheel, choosing to ignore his partner for the moment as he merged into traffic fronting Venice Place. The blond detective reached over to impatiently flick at the brunet's ear. "Well?" Hutch asked.

The dark haired cop turned to glance at his partner and then grinned. "It's a long story, Blintz, so shut your mouth and open your ears and I'll tell ya . . ."

~ Chapter Three~

The bar and grill was dark and crowded as green eyes, flecked with gold, shifted from patron to patron, warily watching as burly, tattooed men and boisterous women shuffled past his table. "Hog's Heaven" wasn't an establishment that most civilized people would care to frequent, but perhaps that was the reason the handsome man from Brooklyn chose it in the first place; plus it was a convenient meeting place to hook up with Davey since he'd been in the vicinity taking care of business matters for most of the day. It would be interesting to see his friend's reaction to the joint in any case.

Joey glanced at his wristwatch noting the time. Davey was late. Again. That certainly wasn't a surprise. As a boy, his curly haired friend had often kept him waiting a few minutes longer than expected with some excuse or another. Mostly his tardiness revolved around ditching Nicky, his tag-along little brother, whom his mother expected Davey to watch all the time.

Joey Campanella snorted at the memory of a snot-nosed Nicky whining as Starsky jumped on his bike, leaving his brother crying out on their front porch. The ruggedly handsome man sighed as he ran the blunt point of his finger along the side of the glass containing his beer, catching the tiny rivulets of beading water upon his index finger, his mind drifting back to the day he'd frantically searched for his missing friend . . .

_His heart pounded against his chest as he raced along the back alley way, searching out their familiar haunts, fear causing him to stumble in his haste as he frantically ran to the next place in mind . . . the park. When they were just a few years younger, he and Davey would spend hours at the park as he coached his curly haired friend and helped him to learn the game of baseball, gifting Davey with the old and preciously worn glove his own father had given him for Christmas many years back._

_Joey could feel the sweat running down his back, his inner ear hanging on every gasp that burst from his burning lungs as he sped towards their old hangout, hoping Davey was okay. He had been on his way to meet the kid just before lunch by the crates behind the much-frequented five and dime store, which boasted of the cheapest, and most delectable candy money could buy. _

_Unfortunately, he had been waylaid from his intended destination by a gang of punks led by Franco Rosetta, also known as "The Razor" by his idiot followers. Joey smirked as he ran; green eyes hard as he thought about Franco's girlfriend, Juanita, whom he'd just left that morning. There was no doubt that Juanita was talented; using her God given gifts to keep her men satisfied and fulfilled. She was good in bed and taught Joey a few tricks he'd have to remember in the future. Maybe when Davey got older, he could pass his newfound knowledge on carnal delights on to the younger boy . . ._

_Davey . . ._

_Dark, blue sapphire eyes wide with fear suddenly passed before his eyes and Joey pushed the thought of Juanita and Franco far from his mind as thoughts of finding the kid took precedence. He had waited for a while at the crates, hoping little Davey would be on time for once, but after a while it became apparent that David Starsky wasn't showing. Jumping off the stacked wooden crates, Joey fished a dime from his pocket and used the store's pay phone to call Davey's home. Talking to his ma made a chill race down his spine and he hung up the phone to begin his frantic search._

"_Davey left over a half an hour ago to meet you, Joey. Is everything okay? Should I be worried?"_

'_Hell yeah, you should be worried', Joey thought irritably as he replayed snatches of his phone conversation with Davey's mom in his mind. You should be damn worried like I am about your missing son. But instead, he had reassured Rachel Starsky that her son was fine and that they just must've got their messages crossed, that he would go out right now and look for Davey, making sure to give the kid a piece of his mind for worryin' his mama._

_The park loomed into view; green grass and trees surrounded by chain link fences housing a few, brightly colored playground equipment that was bolted down to the ground to dissuade would-be thieves. Panting as he made his way inside the park's fence, feeling the heat from the sun directly overhead, Joey stopped to catch his breath, palms pressed against knees as he bent over to suck in more oxygen, wide green eyes darting around the near empty park, shifting over to the boys playing catch in the midday sun to finally fall upon a crumpled heap of something just outside the back fence. Even from this distance, Joey could recognize the familiar denim jacket Davey constantly wore._

'_No, no, no,' Joey thought as his legs automatically spurned into action, dark green eyes never leaving his intended target that so far, hadn't moved an iota. Pumping his arms as he raced across the field, Joey sent up a silent prayer to a God he had secretly given up on since his mother died. 'Please God, please make him okay, please don't take Davey from me too. Please God . . . please . . ."_

_Stopping just a few inches from his friend who lay face down in the dirt, Joey could feel tears streaming down his face. He wasn't moving. Oh God, Davey wasn't moving . . ._

"_D-Davey?" Joey stammered, angrily scrubbing at his red-rimmed eyes. _

_Joey Campanella rarely ever cried and the green-eyed boy knew that it would scare Davey something awful if he saw tears streaming down his best friend's face._

"_Davey? You okay?"_

_A barely audible groan made Joey move quickly to the crumpled form of the beaten boy, sliding into a crouch beside him. Hands hovered helplessly over the back of David Starsky, his denim jacket torn and frayed. Struggling to keep his tears in check, Joey gently tried to turn his friend over so he could see the damage first hand, nearly stopping as Davey cried out in pain. _

"_Shh, it's okay, it's okay, kid, it's just me, Joey," the older boy whispered soothingly, trying unsuccessfully to comfort his best friend who was bleeding from his mouth and nose. Bruises were already starting to form on Davey's face; and his dark, long lashes that pressed against sweaty, dusty cheeks, hid the brilliant blue that Joey so desperately needed to see._

"_Hey, kiddo," Joey said in a quivering whisper, "O-open your eyes, Davey. Tell me where it hurts . . ."_

"_J-Joey?" David Starsky murmured, lashes rolling gently as the kid came into consciousness bringing with it all the pain and aches in his broken and battered body, which the boy had momentarily escaped from when he gave in to the encompassing darkness. The malicious gang had apparently left him for dead. Davey tensed and cried out at the piercing pain he felt in his side, "Ungh . . . J-Joey . . ."_

"_Oh God, I got you, I got you, kid," Joey whispered, holding tight to his friend who stiffened in agony until the spasm of pain relented. "I'm here, Davey, I'm here and you're safe now." The older boy bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, running his fingers gently along the kid's left side, where Davey had clutched when he first cried out. He was no doctor, but it didn't take a genius to know that the curly haired boy writhing beneath him had a few broken ribs. "Shh, shhh, st-stop thrashin' about, kiddo, you're gonna make it worse!"_

"_J-Joey? I . . . "_

"_Yeah, yeah, 'm here," Joey soothed softly, hot tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as he looked down at the younger boy's battered face. "Just lie still, Davey," Joey murmured looking up, green eyes searching for help, but to no avail. The boys playing ball had stopped their game, concerned eyes staring at them from across the field._

" _. . . J-Joey? I didn't . . . d-didn't tell 'em . . . I didn't tell' em where you were . . ."_

_The older teen felt suddenly sick, knowing his little friend took the hit that should have come to him. Rage surged within the older boy as he silently vowed to get "The Razor" and teach him a thing or two. Nobody would hurt his Davey and get away unscathed. _

"_J-Joey?"_

"_I-I gotta go get help," Joey whispered, looking down at David's bruised and bleeding face once more, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend. "You just . . . I-I gotta go kid, and . . ."_

_A small hand reached out desperately to cling to Joey's shirt, the curly haired boy groaning softly with the effort it took to hold onto the older teen. "N-no, don' leave me, J-Joey . . . please . . . Joey . . ."_

"Joey?"

Startled green eyes looked up into a sea of familiar blue as distant memories faded back to the past and the present loomed once more to the forefront, bringing with it the sights and boisterous sounds of the bar and grill he'd been sitting in for the last half hour.

Starsky grinned, blue eyes dancing with fondness. "Hey, thought you were in a trance or somethin'. You okay? Too much to drink already, pal?"

Joseph Campanella found his mouth tweaking into a smile, dimples appearing at the corners, a natural reaction whenever he saw his childhood friend. "Took ya long enough, kid. It's no wonder I was zonin'." Joey grouched good-naturedly, green eyes darting to the watch strapped on his wrist. "Was just about to leave. Thought you'd forgotten."

"Well, we weren't too sure if we had the right place at first," Starsky said, eyeing the gang of leather clad bikers who gathered by the dimly lit pool table in the back of the smoky bar. "Not our usual kinda place to hang, ya know?"

Joey grinned noting the cop's wariness. "Yeah, well, we can leave if you want, but let me buy you a beer first. Appreciate you comin' out here to pick me up and all. Had business to do this side of town and you spared me a cab ride home." Green eyes drifted from Starsky's face to the tall, handsome blond standing just behind him. "And this must be Hutch? Right?"

Starsky smiled, pulling his partner towards the table as he said, "Yeah, this is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. Mostly he goes by Hutch, but I call him Blondie, or Blintz, or dummy, or meathead."

Hutch rolled his eyes at the exuberantly snorting brunet and then stuck out his hand towards the sitting man. "Hey, and you must be Joey. Nice to meet you, man," the blond detective greeted courteously, shaking the offered hand from the green-eyed gentleman. "I've heard a lot of good things about you from Starsky."

"Yeah?" Joey grinned. "And what kinda nicknames does he call me behind my back?"

"Oh, he doesn't call me these names behind my back," Hutch said with a grin, slapping his partner upon the shoulder with affection. "He says it right to my face because he's such an up and up kinda guy! Right buddy?"

Joey laughed, already liking the soft-spoken blond as Starsky gently shoved his partner into the booth, sliding in behind him.

"Don't listen to him, Joey," Starsky smirked. "Hutch is just bein' cocky. Thinks he's the brains' of the team. It's all that educational stuff that they crammed into his head in college. The dummy thinks he's a know it all!"

The three men laughed and the conversation easily flowed between them as Hutch and Joey got to know each other better. It warmed Starsky's heart to have his two best friends sitting together and laughing as they shared anecdotes revolving around their shared comrade and ribbed the curly haired detective who had played such an important part in both of their lives.

"So, Starsky tells me you're a bounty hunter?" Hutch asked conversationally as the dark haired detective tried once more to flag down the waitress to order three more bottles of beer.

"Yeah, it's not something one usually brags about, but hey, it pays the bills," Joey casually replied, grinning as he looked over to Starsky and then quickly changed the subject. "You might as well give it up, kid. I had to actually get off my ass and go to the bar to get this bottle here," the older man said, nodding his head towards the empty bottle that sat before him.

"Yeah, well, that's because you don't have the good looks that I do," Starsky joked, but after a fourth attempt, the handsome detective sighed and finally gave up, sliding out of the booth to rise to his feet.

"Lemme get it, Davey," Joey said quickly, attempting to get up, only to have Starsky push him gently back down, patting the older man's shoulder before removing his hand.

"Nah, you sit your ass down and keep Hutch busy, Joey. The big lug gets bored when I'm not there to hold his hand," the brunet cop said with a wink to his blond partner. "I can get the beer. Be right back."

"He'll be fine. He's a big boy now," Hutch reassured with a grin as he saw the concern on Joey's face and watched as the older man's dark green eyes never left his partner's retreating back. "My partner can take care of himself now, especially in a place like this."

Joey snorted softly, shifting his golden-flecked eyes back to the handsome blond cop sitting across from him. "Yeah, about that . . . thanks for always watchin' Davey's back. I know he may be a big boy now, but to me, he'll always be just a kid, ya know?"

Hutch grinned and then snorted, "Yeah, I know. In many ways, he **is** just a big kid, but that guy has a heart of gold."

"I'm glad he has you in his life, Hutch," Joey said quietly and with a sincerity that gave the blond pause. The older man's gratefulness could be plainly seen on his face; honest gratitude that his little Davey had someone to be there for him during the tough times of his life. "And also," Joey continued, his voice soft and reflective, "I wanted to take this time to thank you for what you tried to do for my Uncle Joe."

Hutch smiled wistfully, pale blue eyes filling with regret. "Yeah, don't even mention it. I'm sorry we couldn't have done more for Joe Durniak. From what little time I spent with your uncle, I liked him. I really did. He honestly cared for Starsky and his family; tried to watch out for them, and for that I'm grateful to the man."

Joey smiled, dark long lashes sweeping low to hide his emerald gaze from the man sitting across from him. "Yeah, I'm grateful for that too. Uncle Joey may have been many things to many people, but I think he basically tried to do what he thought was right. In the end, I think he was trying to make amends, to maybe right all the wrongs he'd done in the past . . . it's too bad it had to end the way it did for him."

Hutch could feel the other man's pain through those few spoken words, and the sensitive blond reached out to gently cover Joey's hand with his own. "He was afraid they were gonna get him," Hutch spoke softly, his light blue eyes were kind and sympathetic. "I think there were a lot of things he wanted to say to Starsky, things he'd only hinted about, like he was trying to prepare him for whatever was gonna come out when he testified. But no matter what, I could see that Durniak really cared about my partner and I just wished . . ." Hutch sighed, feeling the remorse he'd carried inside since Durniak was gunned down on their watch just a few months ago. "Well, I just wished things had ended differently for your uncle."

"He knew what might've happened if he went down that path," Joey said, patting the blond's hand upon his. "The Durniaks' have always had a lot of enemies . . . maybe more enemies than friends. Joe Durniak was no fool, Hutch. He went into this with his eyes wide open and at the very end, I think it made him happy knowing that it was little Davey Starsky that was holdin' him as he bled out. I know if it were me and I was dyin', I would die content if Davey's face was the last thing I saw."

"Me too," Hutch whispered, feeling a strange kinship to the man sitting across from him. "Starsky's more than just a partner to me; he's my best friend and I would die for him."

"Then that makes two of us, Hutch," Joey said softly, dark green eyes shifting from the blond's face to search the crowded room for the man they'd been speaking about. Spotting Starsky at the bar, Joey felt himself relax a little, watching as the dark haired cop made small talk with some bimbo who obviously had the hots for him and couldn't keep her paws off of his chest.

Joey grinned, chin nodding in Starsky's direction. "Looks like the flies are buzzin' 'round your partner."

Hutch's baby blues twinkled with mirth as he glanced over at his counterpart. "Are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'? I mean, if the fly comment pertains to that lady, then I'm assuming that Starsky must be the shit that she's buzzin' 'round."

Joey laughed out loud and Hutch joined in; both men lowering their heads together and snickering like a couple of schoolboys. They watched as the women smiled wantonly and ran her fingers through the dark, curly mat of hair that covered Starsky's chest, and then grinned to see their friend squirm, obviously was trying hard to dissuade the lady without being rude.

"You think he needs rescuin'?" Joey asked, noticing that one of the burly men at the pool table had stopped to watch the quiet commotion going on at the bar.

"Nah," Hutch said, "He's a big boy, remember? She's obviously drunk and he's just trying to be nice, letting her down easy. Maybe this'll teach him to button up his shirt next time." The two men snidely chuckled and then Hutch nodded his chin towards the approaching brunet. "See? Here he comes now, and he's even bought us a pitcher."

The dark haired cop slid into the booth next to his partner, grinning as Joey took the pitcher of beer and refilled their mugs. "Man, did ya see me bein' molested at the bar back there?"

"Yeah, she probably didn't get a good look at your face since she was obviously drunk," Hutch teased, smiling as Joey snorted loudly.

"Right. Pick on the handsome guy," Starsky said gruffly, though his dark blue eyes twinkled with amusement. It made him happy to see that Joey and Hutch seemed to be getting along so well. "Fugly guys like you two are always poor losers."

The three men laughed and talked the night away and three more pitchers were ordered and emptied before Starsky finally stood up and jammed his hand into the pocket of his tight denim jeans.

"Shit, kid," Joey teased, "You still wearin' the jeans your ma bought ya when you were thirteen? Them pants are so tight the seams are 'bout to give."

"Shut up, Campanella," Starsky grinned. "It's a lucky thing I'm gonna get the car out back to pick up your two sorry drunk asses, so that you don't have to walk it. The least I could have is a little appreciation here."

"We appreciate you, buddy," Hutch smirked. "We just don't appreciate your tight pants, right Joey?" The two men snickered as Starsky rolled his eyes with exasperation.

"Maybe I should have you guys walk off the booze. The cold night air will do the both of ya good."

"Go get the car, Starsk," Hutch urged, attempting to stand. "Me and Joey will meet you out front."

"Be careful, kid," Joey cautioned as he watched his friend make his way to the side door of the establishment, which led to the alleyway out back. "Make sure you keep your keys between your fingers."

"You worry too much, you know that?" Hutch said as they watched Starsky walk out the door. "You better watch it, Joey. Keep that up, and Starsky'll give you my title of 'Mother Hen'." The two men laughed out loud as they finally stood to stumble their way to the front entrance of the bar.

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. Was rushing to get this posted.

Mahalo!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

"Go get the car, Starsk," Hutch urged, attempting to stand. "Me and Joey will meet you out front."

"Be careful, kid," Joey cautioned as he watched his friend make his way to the side door of the establishment, which led to the alleyway out back. "Make sure you keep your keys between your fingers."

"You worry too much, you know that?" Hutch said as they watched Starsky walk out the door. "You better watch it, Joey. Keep that up, and Starsky'll give you my title of 'Mother Hen'." The two men laughed out loud as they finally stood to stumble their way to the front entrance of the bar.

~ Chapter Four ~

Starsky hummed happily as he walked out into the cold night air, feeling a bit tipsy from the eight mugs of beer he had downed. The breeze felt good after being inside the crowded and smoky bar and the dark haired detective sauntered casually towards the red and white car parked at the end of the dark alleyway.

As he neared the Torino, a movement from the corner of his eye caught Starsky's attention and the brunet briefly slowed his gait to squint into the gloom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though and the curly haired cop shrugged off his wariness and then grinned sheepishly.

"Must be imaginin' things," Starsky muttered under his breath, fumbling with the keys in his pants pocket once he reached the driver's side of the car. Starsky snorted as he remembered the advice from Joey about putting the keys between his fingers. "Big paranoid lug," the brunet mumbled fondly, feeling happy and content that both Hutch and Joey were hitting it off right at the start like he'd hoped they would.

It had worried him to say the least, that Joey, or even Hutch, for that matter, might have been at odds with the other's presence, but the evening had gone smoothly and both men had even ganged up on teasing their curly haired friend more than once. Giggling and snorting at his insecurities, Starsky leaned over unsteadily to insert the car key into the lock when suddenly all the air was forcefully expelled from his lungs when something the size of a freight train slammed into him, attempting to ram the curly haired cop face first into the hood of the car. Turning his head at the last minute, his right temple taking the blow that should have broken his nose, the dark haired cop fought to keep conscious as the world spun crazily on its axis.

Groaning softly, Starsky could already feel the warm trickle of blood running down the side his face as he slowly bled out onto the smooth surface of his car. Blinking rapidly at the fog that clouded his vision, the hurting detective tried to make sense of his surroundings, listening intently to the boisterous laughing that came up from behind him as footsteps neared.

"Let the asshole have it boys," a deep voice demanded. "Maybe the punk will think twice next time before hittin' on another man's woman."

Starsky had little time to piece together what little information he had gathered about his attackers before the two beefy men who had initially jumped him quickly and enthusiastically followed their leaders directions, taking turns to pummel his kidneys with their meaty fists. The dark haired detective grunted as red-hot pain stole his breath away, radiating out in waves from the small of his back.

"Turn the fucker around," the voice commanded. "Lemme see what the slut saw in this flake."

Starsky groaned as his head was yanked up from the cool metal surface of the Torino's hood by a handful of his dark curls, and the hurting detective was spun violently around. There were three of them. Two of the burly bikers were clearly identified as being part of the crowd that hung out at the pool table in the back of the bar. The overly large black man standing right behind the bikers though was unfamiliar.

"Maybe this'll teach ya not to hit on another man's property, dick," the black man sneered, dark eyes raking over the curly haired man who was being held tightly by his friends. The big black biker drew back his large, meaty fist, the glint of the silver knuckle-rings shone briefly in the dim light from the streets before it was slammed into the left side of the struggling brunet. Starsky cried out and would have doubled over if his arms weren't still stretched out by the two thugs who chuckled and cheered their boss on, but the black man frowned and immediately jerked Starsky's white blazer open, reaching into the brunet's jacket to move the detective's gun from his holster.

Dark eyes widened as the huge thug raised the gun to eye level, pinching the handle between two thick fingers. "Well, well, what have we here?" the black man sneered, dark eyes narrowing as he glared at the detective. "You packin' a piece? You a cop, boy?"

"Whoa, wait a minute," one of the men holding Starsky said, fear and trepidation clearly written across his face. "Rico and me don't want no trouble from the pigs, man! This wasn't part of the deal, Tank. You didn't tell us he was a cop . . ."

"Shut the fuck up, moron. You're droppin' names just like you're droppin' the marbles that take up rent space in that fuckin' thing you call a brain!" Tank snapped, waving the gun with authority. "Now stop panicking and think! We don't know he's a cop. Take his wallet and check, and if he is, then the four of us is goin' for a little ride and he's gonna regret the day that he ev . . ."

Tank crashed to the ground, never finishing his sentence as a dark blur quickly came out of the shadows in the alley and swept the large man off his feet, only to knock the black man unconscious with a backwards elbow blow to his thick forehead, deftly removing Starsky's gun from the limp fingers of the thug before Tank even hit the ground.

The other two bikers quickly let go of the Starsky and charged the new assailant who crouched unmoving next to their downed leader. With a quiet groan Starsky quickly slid to the ground clutching his side, blinking through the stream of blood that clouded his vision to peer at the huge black man laying on the ground and at the other man who quickly moved into action, sweeping his leg out in a semi circle to knock one of the approaching bikers off his feet.

Without pausing, the newcomer quickly tucked the gun behind his back, into his waistband, and did a series of back flips bringing both strong legs together in a round-off kick to the face to the remaining biker who went sprawling.

"Starsky?"

Starsky blinked and looked up to see Hutch suddenly crouched beside him. He could feel Hutch prodding at his temple and winced, brushing away the blond's searching fingers as he tried to concentrate on the agile stranger who had his back facing towards the Torino, surrounded by the three thugs who were now standing once more. Tank, who was once again on his feet, was snarling and was motioning to his men, encouraging them to take on the loner who quickly pulled the gun out from behind him and then crouched in ready stance, gun pointing calmly at the advancing trio.

"Who . . . who is that?" Starsky mumbled.

"It's Joey. He saw those hoods leaving right after you did and knew you'd be in trouble." Hutch said softly, concern marring the light blue of his eyes as he quickly checked over his dazed partner.

Starsky sat up straighter recognizing Joey's profile under the dim lights from the streets. "What the . . ."

"Take it easy buddy," Hutch soothed. "Stay right here. I got a handle on this." The tall blond rose to his feet, taking his gun from his holster in one smooth motion. "Police. Everyone freeze. Hands up over your heads."

All four men paused to look over their shoulder at the blond detective who stood with feet spread, both hands cupping the butt of his gun as Hutch repeated his directions firmly and with authority until all the men in the alley raised their hands up in surrender. Joey grinned at the tall blond cop as he let the weight of Starsky's gun twirl loosely on his finger, his hands and the gun raised in the air in mock defeat.

"Joey come here," Hutch said, keeping his light blue eyes on the three thugs as Starsky's boyhood friend approached and quickly crouched down to help Starsky to his feet. "The rest of you, get your hands on the wall and spread 'em." Hutch ordered, beginning to inform the thugs of their rights, handcuffing first the big black man who grudgingly put his hands behind his back.

Starsky bit his lip to keep himself from groaning out loud as he stood, hand clutched to his side as Joey pulled him up. The dark haired detective couldn't help but grin as the green-eyed man winked and said with sarcasm, "I believe this is yours?"

Starsky rolled his eyes and snatched his gun from Campanella's hand. "Gimme that, and give this to Hutch."

Joey chuckled and caught the handcuffs tossed his way as Starsky opened the car door and called in for reinforcements. All in all, it had been one helluva night.

oo~0~oo

"Feel tight enough?"

"It's not broken, remember?" Starsky grumbled as he stood, lifting his left arm as Joey snugly pinned the bandage wrap in place against his grouchy friend's ribs.

"I know it's not broken, but this area will be all bruised up by morning." Joey calmly replied from where he sat on the couch, running his finger lightly over the bandages he'd just fastened. Green eyes looked up and locked onto brilliant blue. "They could'a done worse I suppose . . ."

"So when did you become all Bruce Lee like? Starsky grinned sarcastically, silently impressed by the martial arts performance he'd witnessed in the alley. "I mean I don't remember you takin' any martial arts lessons in Brooklyn while I was there." The brunet winced as Joey checked the butterfly bandage he had applied to the wound on his temple once more.

Joey sighed softly and then shrugged nonchalantly; like doing what he just did was nothing out of the ordinary. The handsome man got to his feet, stretched out his back, and then yawned. Turning wearily to face his bandaged friend, Joey grinned, "I learned a few moves here and there when I was travellin' in Asia."

"Yeah?" Starsky said, running his hand over the tightly wound bandages which helped to support his bruised ribs. "And the Florence Nightingale skills? You learned that in Asia too?"

Joey chuckled and shook his head. "I learned how to do this when you got your ribs busted by that Brooklyn gang at the park, remember?" At Starsky's quiet snort, Joey continued, "And anyway, Hutch gave me some last minute pointers on wrapping you up before we left him at the station to finish up the paperwork. I think your partner was worried I'd do a crappy job."

Starsky snorted as he thought of his disgruntled partner. If anyone hated paperwork more than Starsky, it was Hutch. "Yeah, poor Blondie. Hated to leave him there with all that work . . ."

"He was more concerned about you, wantin' me to get your ass home and in bed to rest." Joey replied as he pulled his friend towards the bedroom. "He told me to tell you to stay home tomorrow and heal that hard head of yours." At the brunet's quiet chuckle, Joey's dimples appeared as he said, "The man cares a great deal for you, Davey. I'm glad Hutch has been here for you."

"Hutch is a good guy, Joey. He's a lot like you in a lotta ways." Starsky said with a yawn, grunting softly as he bent over to take off his shoes.

"Sit on the bed, kiddo, let me do that," Joey directed, quickly untying the laces of Starsky's worn out and faded blue sneakers. 'Jeez, don't they pay you enough in the department to buy you better lookin' shoes?"

"Hey," Starsky said in a quiet offended voice. "I'll have you know Campanella, that those shoes you're holdin' has saved my life countless times." The dark haired detective carefully laid back onto the mattress as Joey gently pulled the covers over the brunet's bandaged torso. "Those shoes may have seen better days, but they still serve me well. Unlike a lot of people, they're at least loyal and dependable."

Joey smiled and lifted one shoe to eye level, noting the worn out laces and the faded blue color of his friend's sneaker. Turning his head to peer inside the top of the shoe, the green-eyed man said, "Loyal and dependable huh? So I take it these tired, old dogs are your best friend then, huh?" the taller man grinned as he set the pair of sneakers under the bed.

Starsky yawned, long lashes closing as a wave of weariness washed over the dark haired detective. The curly haired cop winced as he turned onto his good side and snuggled deeper under the covers; his words were muffled and lost in the depths of the pillow pressed against his cheek. "Yeah, they're loyal and dependable. Shoes never dig out and go away unless you get rid of 'em yourself."

A small, wistful smile tweaked the corners of Joey's mouth as he reached over to click off the bedside lamp, shrouding his friend's bedroom in soothing shadows. For a moment the green-eyed man gazed fondly at the brunet who was now breathing deeply, his battered body demanding the restorative effects that deep sleep brought on. "G'night, kid. Get some rest."

Joey sighed softly as he quietly closed the door to Starsky's room. The older man swallowed back the regret and shame that rose in his throat as he thought of Davey's words. Though he knew it wasn't Starsky's intention to actually compare him to his beloved shoe, Davey's sleepy ramblings had nonetheless hit its mark. Guilt and shame rose in the handsome Brookynite as Joey made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

Closing the door behind him, Joey snagged the shirt he was wearing over his head and turned to look at himself in the mirror above the porcelain basin. Green eyes filled with guilt glared back at the handsome, muscled man whose broad shoulders and sculpted abs spoke clearly of hard work and years of training. Joey quickly lowered his gaze to his hands that clenched at the smooth edge of the sink; long, dark lashes hiding the pain and confusion he felt inside.

"Maybe I should'a never come here after all, Davey," Joey whispered to himself, as golden, dark wisps of hair fell carelessly over his brow. The tall man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively, repressing the emotions that wanted to spew forth. Hesitant, green eyes lifted to stare at his reflection once more, as Joey dragged a fist through his hair, slowly shaking his head back and forth in denial. "I fucked up. I think I fucked up real bad, Davey. I should'a just stayed dead . . . should'a just stayed a shadow in your past."

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. Was rushing to get this posted.

Sorry for the delay. Real life has been hell. Mahalo!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

A/N: Aloha Everyone . . . May I take this time, to wish all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving. Here is my small offering for you to "feast" upon . . .

Love and light to you all . . . Shawne

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

"Maybe I should'a never come here after all, Davey," Joey whispered to himself, as golden, dark wisps of hair fell carelessly over his brow. The tall man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively, repressing the emotions that wanted to spew forth. Hesitant, green eyes lifted to stare at his reflection once more, as Joey dragged a fist through his hair, slowly shaking his head back and forth in denial. "I fucked up. I think I fucked up real bad, Davey. I should'a just stayed dead . . . should'a just stayed a shadow in your past."

~ Chapter Five ~

The incessant blaring dragged the befuddled brunet from the depths of his sleep to the surface of awareness, making the groggy detective groan as burning pain flared once more in his side. "What the . . ."

Grunting, Starsky reached over and jammed his finger against the button on the clock, turning off the buzzing alarm that jarred his sensibilities. Seeing the folded slip of paper propped carefully upon the bedside table with his name on it made Starsky grin as he recognized the sloppy scrawl of his houseguest. Leaning heavily upon his elbow and forearm, the grimacing brunet quickly reached over and grabbed the note, ocean blue eyes shifting back and forth as he read the contents within.

_Hey Kid,_

_Left the coffee on for ya. Had to go take care of some business, but I should be back in a few hours. Stay in bed and rest. If I get back and find you went to work, I'm gonna really kick your ass!_

_Joey_

Snorting softly, Starsky let the note flutter to the floor. Sighing heavily and aching with hurt, the dark haired detective rolled onto his back and blinked the sleep from his eyes. 'Yeah, one day Campanella, you and me might just have to find out if you really can kick my ass or not,' the curly haired cop thought with a slight smile.

Starsky could already smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting down the hallway, enticing him to leave the warm haven of his bed. Grunting with the effort it took, Starsky stood up and made his way to the kitchen, his arm pressed tightly against his side to support his protesting ribs. Opening the cupboard to take down a mug, the weary brunet poured himself some of the dark, rich, aromatic brew.

Sipping slowly, feeling the soothing heat of the liquid warming his insides, Starsky let his mind wander to the night before. To say that he was a little surprised at Joey's adeptness and agility towards street fighting would have been an understatement. It totally blew him away to realize that Joey had single-handedly taken on those three hoods before Hutch had arrived to lend aid. Needless to say, the level of respect Starsky had always had for his longtime friend raised a notch further.

Green eyes flashing gold and a cocky grin appeared in his mind's eye as Starsky drained his cup, and the thought of what Joey was doing now, at this very minute, caused the dark haired cop a moment of worry. Other than knowing that Joey was a self-professed bounty hunter, what did he now know of his longtime friend? Too many years had gone by and so many unanswered questions remained and raced through the brunet's mind adding to the discomfort Starsky was already feeling, making him want to crawl back into bed to just forget about the suspicions he was harboring inside. It made him sick to know that he couldn't really trust Joey anymore. And the thought of that hurt Starsky more than his bruised and aching ribs.

Lowering his eyes to his empty mug, the brunet sighed. Everything Joey told him since coming here made Starsky desperately want to trust and believe his friend. Yet, the dark haired cop could not deny the niggling sense of fear that Joey was not all that he professed to be. His gut instinct, his cop's sense of right and wrong, instinctively knew that there was more to the "business" that took Joey's time; and if it became clear that Joey was on the wrong side of the law and that he would have to step in and bring his friend to justice, Starsky knew the devastation and havoc it would bring would just kill him. The thought of arresting Joey, or if Campanella resisted, hurting him, made the brunet feel sick to his stomach.

"You're bein' an idiot, Starsky," the dark haired cop softly chided himself for jumping to conclusions before even knowing the facts. Joey was his best buddy, next to Hutch, and it was wrong to doubt his longtime friend. It went against the loyalty that was so deeply ingrained in the dark haired man.

"_You know kid, I resent the fact that you would choose this time to sit in judgment on me just because of my occupation. It shouldn't matter what I do, but if it's so important to ya, I'll tell ya. I'm a bounty hunter, okay?" _

Hearing Joey's voice from the night before, Starsky had the decency to blush with shame as he gently put the ceramic mug into the sink and turned on the faucet to fill the cup with water, his mind playing back to the conversation they shared the night Campanella stepped back into his life, remembering the discerning hurt he could hear in the older man's voice.

Holding onto his aching ribs, Starsky turned and made his way slowly back to the bedroom, guilt and remorse doing a number in his already throbbing head. What kind of cop was he anyway? Shouldn't Joey be assumed innocent unless proven guilty? Any good cop knew that! His mind raced back to more innocent days when he and Joey spent all their together on the streets, laughing and horsing around, cherished memories of the boyhood times that had shaped him into the man he was today.

Who was he to be not only a cop, but judge and juror all rolled up into one big asshole who was so quick to harbor suspicions about one of his best friends, when Joey had done nothing to even deserve that unspoken accusation! Feeling lousy with himself, his head throbbing with every beat of his heart, Starsky stepped into the doorway of his bedroom.

Spotting the forgotten note lying on the carpeted floor of his room, the brunet bit back a groan as he stooped over to pick it up. Dark blue eyes flitted across the page as Starsky read the note once more. With a quiet sigh, the weary brunet carefully sat at the edge of his bed, placing the scrawled note on the mattress beside him.

Though is body screamed for rest, Starsky realized that lying around all day would just drive him crazy. Already his mind was playing havoc with his emotions, and the dark haired cop knew he wouldn't be able to just sit around as long as Joey was gone. And who knew exactly when his friend would come waltzing in? No, he would be a fool to stay here, locked away with only his doubting mind for company.

Grunting with determination as he stood, but finding solace with his decision, Starsky reached for the discarded jeans he'd left on the floor in a crumpled heap. At least if he kept himself busy, his mind wouldn't keep wandering down clouded alleyways, making assumptions he had no business assuming.

Dragging out a dark blue button down shirt from his closet, the handsome cop gingerly put it on, wincing as his ribs protested loudly as he carefully twisted his torso to get his other arm in. Sighing heavily as he buttoned down the front, Starsky snatched up the keys and headed out the door.

Twinkling light blue eyes under the arch of pale blond brows and a sheepish grin filled his mind's eye and Starsky had to smile as he locked the door behind him. It would be good to see Hutch and clear his mind. His fair-haired partner always had a way of balancing him out when he was confused or in a funk; and even though Starsky knew Hutch wouldn't be as happy to see him, the brunet could already feel the sense of dread that had been plaguing him since morning already abating. Yes, seeing Hutch would be the soothing balm for his frayed nerves and battered being; something that even sleep and a soft bed could not ease.

oo~0~oo

He could feel it the minute he stepped into the squad room, the familiar energy and buzz that permeated the air whenever something was going down. Seeing Hutch lost in thought behind some kind of report, Starsky quickly walked over to his desk. "What is it?" the dark haired cop inquired, voice rough and low, sapphire eyes taking in the hustle and bustle of activity in the squad room.

Light blue eyes darted upwards connecting with the dark blue of a turbulent sea over the top of the paper he held. Hutch instantly frowned, his eyes turning to the color of ice as it roamed over his partner's bruised countenance. "What?"

"What is it?" Starsky reiterated, "What's happening?"

"You tell me, buddy? What are you doing here, Starsk? You're supposed to be in bed recuperating . . . remember?" Hutch reminded, his voice though soft, was firm and broke no arguments.

"Yeah, well, about that . . ." Starsky began, gingerly lowering himself into the seat behind his own desk facing Hutch's. "I um . . . I couldn't sleep, so I thought . . ."

"You thought you'd come to work so you can hurt yourself even more?" the blond detective said, undisguised sarcasm lacing his words.

Starsky sighed and then tried whining, bright blue eyes pleading understanding and compassion. "C'mon Hutch, I couldn't just stay home, and besides, I missed you, you big lug."

"Right," Hutch snorted, his own blue eyes softening with the fondness he felt for his partner; feeling disgusted with himself, knowing he was already giving in to the manipulative brunet. "Keep buttering me up like that, pal, and I just might let you stay."

Starsky grinned, batting his long, dark eyelashes at the handsome blond. "You promise?"

Hutch grinned, already discerning that disjointed feeling he got whenever his partner was absent abating and leaving him. "You know Starsk, now I know why women just . . ."

"Starsky, Hutch," Dobey growled, sticking his head out of his office doorway. "In here right now!"

The dark haired cop turned to look at his partner as soon as Dobey's head disappeared. Bright blue eyes narrowed as Hutch stood up from behind his desk. Starsky frowned, "Like I said before, Hutchinson, what's goin' on?"

"They found a body last night." Hutch replied in a matter of fact voice. "Near that bar we were at with Joey last night."

"Yeah?" the brunet said, following his partner as Hutch led the way to their captain's office, unable to stop the shiver of dread that unexpectedly ran up his spine, making him nearly stumble into the hard back of the blond detective who suddenly stopped.

"Whoa," Hutch murmured as he turned, reaching out to steady the wavering brunet. "You need to be in bed, buddy."

"Not even," Starsky said with a pout. "If you hadn't stopped like that I wouldn't have bumped into you.

"Yeah? Well if you were watching where you were going you wouldn't have stumbled. How's your ribs?" the tall blond asked, concern evident in his gaze.

""M fine," Starsky replied, moving past his partner before Hutch could discern the discomfort he was feeling in his aching and protesting body. "Hey Cap," the brunet greeted as he carefully slouched himself down into the nearest chair fronting Dobey's desk.

"Starsky? What're you doing here?" the large black man gruffly inquired. "Hutch said you were taking the day off to mend. How're those ribs of yours?"

Starsky sighed and rolled his eyes, as he heard the soft snicker that came up from behind him. ""M fine, okay? Do I have to hang a sign around my neck or make an announcement on the PA system?"

Dobey arched a brow, his blood-shot eyes shrewdly assessing his detective. "Give him an aspirin, Hutch, he's hurting."

"Hence the grouchy disposition," Hutch added, chuckling as he earned himself a weathering glare from his disgruntled partner.

"Don't know why you came in today if you're feeling like crap," Dobey remarked.  
"Believe it or not, Starsky, Hutch can survive one day alone without you covering his back."

"What is this?" Starsky grumbled under this breath. "Pick on the battered guy day or what?" The brunet reluctantly held his palm out as Hutch gave him two pills and a paper cup filled with water from the cooler behind them.

"Take those, buddy," Hutch soothed, blue eyes softening with compassion, "It'll help take the edge off at least. You know, you really should go home and . . ."

"We got a make on the body yet?" Starsky inquired, turning away from the concern he saw in his partner's eyes, cutting off the gentle lecture he knew would be forthcoming if he didn't steer the conversation away from himself.

"We have a good idea who the victim might despite his facial features being burnt beyond recognition. Whatever accelerant or chemical was used to start the fire, it obliterated his face; yet reports from the fire department said the flames were contained somehow to just wipe out the victim's features." Dobey sighed and scratched his head, a frown appearing as his brows drew together. "Whoever this killer is, he knows what he's doing, probably a trained professional."

Starsky swallowed hard and dropped his eyes to the paper cup he still held in his hands. A sinking feeling of despair and denial filled his heart as familiar green eyes and a cocky, dimpled smile appeared in his mind's eye. His mind played back Joey's words from the other night at the bar . . .

"_Appreciate you comin' out here to pick me up and all. Had business to do this side of town and you spared me a cab ride home." _

Why was Joey on that end of town in the first place, and as a cop, why hadn't he questioned that? That wasn't the kind of place a decent law abiding citizen would just hang out at, and yet, Joey made them come out and meet him there the night before. Starsky closed his eyes, long dark lashes hiding the confusion and anguish he felt inside, his cop instincts were screaming loud and clear and flashing red behind the dark screen of his eyelids. Just what the hell kind of business are you doin', Joey? Starsky silently wondered.

"What about prints?"

The dark haired cop forced his eyes open and raised his head at the sound of his partner's soft voice, trying to focus in on the conversation at hand.

"His fingerprints were burnt off with some kind of acid, but we think we know who he is." Dobey replied, pushing the manila folder across his desk towards his men.

"Jonathan Stanford," Starsky read the name at the top of the file he lifted from the desktop. Bright blue eyes rose over the lip of the folder he held. "Hey, isn't this the guy who spearheaded Robert Peterson's campaign in the Bay area?"

"Same one," Dobey replied, reaching over the desk to take the document from his detective's hand, dark eyes perusing the information on the sheet once more. "Found out too, after several calls, that Stanford also was instrumental in counting the ballots and it was rumored that he was a close personal friend to Peterson's advisor and campaign manager, Frank Giovanni."

"Hey," Starsky said, "Giovanni! That's the guy we read about in the paper, remember Hutch?"

"Yeah," Hutch smiled, "I remember, buddy. That conversation we had wasn't that long ago, you know?"

Starsky snorted and then winced at the painful pinch in his side, "Yeah, I remember you were imitating Oscar the grouch at that time, Blondie!" Light blue eyes melded to the cobalt blue of the sea as Starsky winked playfully at the suddenly blushing blond, knowing Hutch was feeling bad inside for his behavior. Starsky smiled fondly, feeling so glad for his partner's steadfast presence. Being with Hutch helped to balance the feelings of turmoil and uncertainty that he'd felt since Joey's return.

"Alright you two, get a room!" Dobey's gruff voice broke the eye contact between his two detectives and Starsky sighed, feeling suddenly tired while Hutch snorted softly and blushed at the dark man's jesting statement.

"Anyway, a call just came into the department from Stanford's residence a little while ago," Dobey continued, all business as usual. "His wife said he never came home last night. We're waiting for the dental records right now, but I'm quite sure that we can ID the victim as Stanford by just height and built alone. The guy was a giant, standing 6 feet, 6 inches tall, not too many people have that kind of stature. I just sent Mitchell and Miller out to his residence to bring Mrs. Stanford to the morgue to ID the body."

"I want you two on this case," Dobey directed. "If it is Stanford, the press will have a field day with this, especially since there has been some speculation into the validity of Peterson's gubernatorial election. I think . . ."

The ringing of the phone stopped Dobey in mid-sentence, as the rotund man reached for the receiver. "Captain Dobey?"

Hutch inconspicuously eyed his quiet counterpart, noting the tired lines on Starsky's face and the plum colored bruise that already painted the brunet's temple. The blond smiled sympathetically and laid a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder, his voice soft and soothing, "Hey, you okay, buddy?"

Starsky nodded, feeling too weary all of sudden to even answer; his mind screaming out an alarm that he couldn't even begin to understand. Gradually his began to focus on the one-sided conversation of his Captain.

"Yeah, patch it through. He's sitting right here in my office." Bloodshot eyes darted over to the fair-haired detective, as Dobey handed the blond his phone. "It's for you, Hutch. Some guy called in and said he needed to speak to only Detective Hutchinson; said he had something important to share."

Hutch took the phone and held it up to his ear, conscious of the two sets of eyes staring at him. "Hello? Yeah. You're speaking with him, this is Detective Hutchinson." A frown soon marred the handsome features of the blond, a deep furrow appearing between his brows. "Dex? That you? Wait, wait . . . slow down . . . just . . ."

Cobalt blue eyes glanced over and met the rich dark color of coffee. Dobey shrugged, silently conveying that he didn't know who that was on the other end of the line. Starsky's eyes darted over this partner once more, listening intently as he tried to discern what was being said.

"Okay, calm down," Hutch said, looking into his partner's concerned eyes. "Yeah. Ok. I'll meet you tonight. Just tell me when and where." Hutch nodded his thanks as Dobey shoved over a notepad and a pencil, watching as his blond detective scribbled down the address and time, and then hung up the phone without another word.

"That was Dex," Hutch said, answering the unspoken question of the two men beside him. "Haven't heard from him in long time."

"Who is he?" Starsky asked, dark blue eyes never leaving Hutch's face as the taller cop folded his long frame into the chair next to the brunet.

"He used to be an informant I had, when I walked the beat," the blond detective replied, making eye contact with his partner. "I lost contact with him years ago, but apparently he'd been keeping tabs on me. In any case, he wants to meet tonight."

"What for?" Starsky queried. "Did he give you any clue as to what it's about?"

"Nope," Hutch said. "He wouldn't divulge anything over the phone, but whatever he's got, he's scared. I could hear it in his voice."

"Where do you have to meet him?" Dobey interjected gruffly.

"The abandoned warehouse district," Hutch informed. "I have to meet him there tonight at eleven."

"Count me in, partner" Starsky grinned.

"No way, Starsky," Hutch admonished, pointedly waving his hand in the direction of his friend's damaged ribs. "You're going home. Tell him, Captain!"

Starsky turned to look at the large, dark man behind the desk who shifted his gaze from the blond to the brunet, the tip of his double-chin resting on the upturned palm of his hand, elbow digging into the top of his desk pad. "You're going home, Starsky, that's an order." Dobey sighed in a monotone voice, already knowing his orders would be quickly disobeyed.

"Yes sir!" Starsky said promptly, eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned and mock saluted his Captain. "Wouldn't think of being any other place!"

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. Was rushing to get this posted.

Sorry for the delay. With two of my robotics teams winning their qualifying

tournaments, I will really have no life until Christmas when the State Tournaments

are being held. Will try to sneak in some writing whenever I can. Mahalo for your

continued understanding in this matter. Working seven days a week now leaves me

little time to do what I enjoy most. (Big Sigh )


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

A/N: Aloha Everyone . . . May I take this time, to wish all of you a very Happy New Year! May 2011 bring you only peace, prosperity, love, and happiness. I am sorry this comes so late, but RL has been quite brutal to say the least. I have recently recovered from a bad bout of bronchitis and have finally finished the following chapter this evening. I offer it as a token of affection to you, dear readers. Thank you for all of your support and encouragement throughout the years . . .

Love and light to you all . . . Shawne

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

"Count me in, partner" Starsky grinned.

"No way, Starsky," Hutch admonished, pointedly waving his hand in the direction of his friend's damaged ribs. "You're going home. Tell him, Captain!"

Starsky turned to look at the large, dark man behind the desk who shifted his gaze from the blond to the brunet, the tip of his double-chin resting on the upturned palm of his hand, elbow digging into the top of his desk pad. "You're going home, Starsky, that's an order." Dobey sighed in a monotone voice, already knowing his orders would be quickly disobeyed.

"Yes sir!" Starsky said promptly, eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned and mock saluted his Captain. "Wouldn't think of being any other place!"

~ Chapter Six~

"What time you got?"

Starsky shifted his eyes to his watch, sapphire blue eyes squinting in the dark to read the numbers. The meager lights from the streets were making it difficult to see in the quiet hush of the abandoned warehouse district. Twisting his wrist to better look upon the face of his timepiece, while simultaneously loading the last bullet into his gun, the dark haired cop whispered, "Five minutes to eleven. You think he's in there?"

Hutch placed his loaded gun back into his holster and shrugged, "Hell if I know, buddy, but Dex said if we could be here by eleven, the information he had to give us would blow the lid off something only a few people know about."

"What do you think he knows?" Starsky asked, wincing as he shifted the weight in his legs while he crouched behind the trunk of the Torino with his partner beside him, his eyes locked on the entrance to the old warehouse where they were to rendezvous with Dexter, one of Hutch's more reliable snitches.

Hutch shrugged, his own eyes were fixed at the same point as his partner's and his voice was whisper soft as he replied, "I don't know, but like I said, Dex was scared. I could hear it in his voice. He said he wanted us to get him into the witness protection program if he had to spill his guts to anyone else besides us. Said the information he had would be the death of him."

Hutch frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "Hey, you called Joey?" the blond asked, abruptly changing the subject, shifting light blue eyes in the direction of his partner. "He knows you're not coming home right?"

Starsky snorted, "Yeah, I called him. He was pissed at me for going to work when he explicitly demanded that I stay home."

Hutch grinned, "Can't say I blame the guy. He and I seem to think a lot alike when it comes to you. What did you say to him?"

"I told him to get over it. I ain't the Betty Crocker type!" Hutch snickered as Starsky continued, "Campenella told me he was gonna kick my ass for sure when I got home." Starsky chuckled. "What a grouch! He's even worse than you, Hutch!"

Hutch laughed softly, "Yeah? Well, sorry about that, buddy, and don't expect me to save you. In fact, I just might help him by holding your stubborn ass down; although I don't think that friend of yours would need any help from me."

The handsome blond smiled at the soft snicker he heard from his longtime friend and then sighed audibly, glancing quickly around them before turning to his partner once more. "You feeling okay, Starsky?" Hutch asked, concern softening the look in his eyes. Maybe you should just stay here. I know your ribs must be killing you."

"You kiddin' me? And let you have all the fun? I don't think so, Hutchinson." Starsky said derisively, but the worry in his partner's light blue eyes made the dark haired detective turn away to hide the discomfort he was feeling in his bruised and battered body.

The handsome blond detective frowned once more as he gazed at his partner. Knowing Starsky wasn't up to par made the blond anxious. He didn't want his best friend hurt any more than he already was. Maybe it had been a mistake to let Starsky get his way again, but saying no to the determined brunet was never an easy thing for Hutch to do.

Hutch sighed, "Just give me five minutes then to get around the back before you storm in there, buddy. Wanna be there too keep your ass in one piece." Hutch smiled and then added, "Only so that Joey can break it later on." Grinning, the handsome blond reached out to affectionately squeeze the brunet's shoulder, rising cautiously to his feet before seeing the look of concern that entered the cobalt blue of Starsky's eyes.

"Hey," the curly haired cop called out quietly making Hutch glance down once more. "You be careful in there. Wouldn't want your ass shot full'a holes either. It wouldn't be a pretty sight!"

Hutch snorted, sky blue eyes softening with the fondness he felt for his longtime friend and partner, intuitively sensing Starsky's ill concealed worry. "You too, Starsk, you too." The blond detective squeezed his partner's shoulder once more, winked, and then turned away, looking over his shoulder only once as he ran towards the back of the warehouse holding up five fingers at the still crouching brunet. 

"Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. I got'chya," Starsky mumbled to himself as he saw the retreating back of the blond turn the corner, and then glanced down at his watch once more. "Five minutes before all hell breaks loose."

The dark haired cop quickly shifted his eyes from the watch on his wrist to the door of the old structure, catching a stealthy movement out of the corner of his eye. Not even a minute had passed since Hutch had left him, but Starsky immediately made his way over to the front entrance of the warehouse, crouching as he ran behind some crates, using the old wooden boxes as cover as he tried to make out the dark shadow that entered the structure. From where he crouched it was difficult to see.

Hearing the quiet slide of the metal door closing behind the intruder, Starsky darted over to the entrance; dark blue eyes peering into the shadows of the night, making sure he was alone before silently pulling the door open once more. Sapphire eyes adjusted to the gloom of the warehouse and locked on the stealthy figure that crept behind the stacked crates; slowly but surely making his way towards the unsuspecting figure of another man who was obviously pacing back and forth in agitation in front of the dirty warehouse windows, every now and then stopping to cautiously peer out, his back towards them.

Starsky pressed his left hand against his ribs and crouched low, biting back the soft gasp that escaped his lips as red-hot pain flared up in his side. Quickly and silently, the dark haired cop followed the intruder, simultaneously keeping his eye on the shorter man who suddenly stopped pacing and turned his head towards the stack of crates as if to listen.

"Hutch?" Dex called out, fear and trepidation evident in his voice. "Th-that you?" the stoolie stuttered; turning around in a semi-circle, eyes wide with the terror he felt inside, sensing someone watching him in the gloomy interior of the empty warehouse. "Wh-who's there?"

"It ain't Hutch," a soft voice replied from behind the crates, giving Starsky pause at its familiar timbre. A tall man dressed all in black walked out from behind the stack of wooden crates. His facial features were hidden from Starsky's view, as only the intruder's broad back and black ski cap could be seen from the detective's vantage point. Pushing down the frustration he felt inside, Starsky silently crept closer, changing his position so that he could try to see the taller man's face.

"You should'a kept your mouth shut, Dex," the intruder whispered calmly as he approached the trembling informant.

"Oh my God, it's you . . ." Dex's voice quavered. "They called you to get me? I promise . . . I-I promise I n-never told anybody. I didn't tell a living soul . . ."

"And they want to keep it that way, Dex," the taller man cut in. "You were a fool to try and sell them out. You should'a known better . . . you know how they are . . . they have eyes and ears all over the . . ."

"Please," Dex begged, eyes bulging out as the other man neared. "I-I can leave right now before Hutch comes. I made a mistake to call 'im, but he ain't here yet, so . . ."

"Too late for second thoughts, Dex," the assassin said, a touch of regret in his quiet voice. "I wish you could've just kept to the program . . . you knew this would happen if you ever decided to squeal."

"No!" Dex cried out, desperation and fear spurning him into action. The balding, shorter man turned to run, taking only a few steps in the direction of the warehouse door before the intruder quickly caught up with him, deftly spinning the smaller man around, wrapping his thick forearm around the informant's throat.

Starsky gasped and silently stood, now recognizing the man dressed all in black as he stepped into the waning light from the streets that somehow permeated the filthy, smudged windows of the large room. Shock and distress paralyzed the usually quick reactions of the dark haired detective as the sickening snap of the informer's neck echoed throughout the still and silent warehouse.

From where he stood in the shadows, Starsky could see the almost sorrowful look on the assassin's handsome face as he slowly drew his arm away from around the dead man's neck.

"I'm sorry, Dex. Wish things could've turned out differently for you."

Starsky made out the quiet murmurings of the assassin, as the taller man gently and almost reverently lowered the stoolie down upon the dirty floor. Crouching beside the now dead informant, the killer sighed softly and whispered, "At least now you're free, you've escaped from this crappy life of . . .

Drawing the gun from his holster and cutting off the words from the assailant, Starsky shouted, "Freeze! Put your hands up in the air and step away from the body right now . . . Campanella!"

Joey could feel the hackles lift on the back of his neck at the angry, but familiar voice. Green eyes squinted slightly to make out Starsky's shadowy figure standing just behind the crates; and swallowing down the sudden fight or flight instinct that he initially felt, the taller man clenched his fists and calmly waited until the curly haired detective was close enough to shoot without missing if he so chose to do so.

At the close proximity from which he now stood, Joey was able to clearly discern the disbelief, horror and hurt that filled Davey's lavender blue eyes as the cop neared him, but the raw pain was soon lost as smoldering cobalt suddenly began the blaze. The usual respect and camaraderie Starsky had for him was clearly gone now, replaced with something akin to enmity and disdain. Seeing the anger and accusation flare and mask the hurt in Starsky's eyes made the assassin want to flee from the crushing reality of the moment he'd dreaded most of his life, the moment David Starsky found out who and what he really was. Yet, despite the sinking feeling of shame he felt in his gut and the overwhelming need to escape, Joey calmly rose and stood his ground as he eyed his younger friend.

"Where's Hutch?" Joey asked quietly, silently calculating if he could possibly make it to the sliding door, while dodging the bullet his well-aimed friend was sure to fire. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit disappointed that Hutch would let you come in here alone. Didn't think he would do that knowing you weren't a hundred percent in the game with your bruised ribs and all."

With the casual way Joey was talking, it seemed like they were just discussing the weather, the dead man at his feet all but forgotten in the aftermath of being discovered. "Shut up, Campanella," Starsky barked; pushing back the fury he felt at the taller man's calm disposition. "Keep your hands up where I can seem 'em!"

The assassin grinned cockily and with a wink slowly raised his hands up. 'Whatever you say, kid. You know I only aim to please."

"Face the wall, Joey, and put a sock in it," the dark haired detective growled, cautiously stepping closer as the taller man slowly turned to face the nearest wall, his muscled body tense and tight, although his actions were compliant.

"Never pegged you for a liar, Davey-boy. You told me you were gonna be home late tonight because you had to help Hutch finish up all that paperwork." Joey closed his eyes as he pressed his hands up against the cold metal wall, listening intently to the quiet footsteps nearing behind him. It pained him inside to have Starsky catch him red-handed like this, knowing that his childhood friend now knew him for the killer that he was, but in a way, there was this sense of relief that the discovery brought on as well. For the most part in their longtime relationship, Joey had never had to lie to his curly haired friend, and having to lie to Starsky these past few days had taken a toll on the handsome assassin.

"I trusted you, Joey," Starsky said softly, "I let you into my home, believing that bullshit story about you being a bounty hunter . . . and all this time, I've been harboring a murderer right under my nose!"

"Listen, kid," Joey began, sensing the other man stopping a little ways behind him. "I never meant to hurt you, I just . . . I just wanted to see you, to hear your voice and talk to you again, to get to know the man that you've become . . ."

"I'm a fuckin' cop, Campanella," Starsky snapped, blue eyes blazing holes into the broad back of his childhood buddy, "And apparently you're a killer. Who hired you to do this job, Joey, huh?"

The taller man shrugged nonchalantly, turning his head slightly to the side in an attempt to see the dark haired cop. "'Fraid I can't tell you that, kid," Joey said softly. "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you, and I don't want to do that. Never wanted any harm to come to you because of me, Davey."

"Yeah? Well you should have thought of that before stepping back into my life." Starsky angrily replied. "Now put your hands behind your back, Campanella, and do it slowly, Hutch'll be here any minute and we're gonna take you in."

Joey sighed softly, stilling the rapid beating of his heart. If he had thought this out correctly, Hutch was probably being detained out back by the hired brute who'd drove him to this site for Dex's execution. That could be the only reason for the blond's missing presence. In the short time since he'd met the soft-spoken detective, Joey knew Hutch would never willingly leave Starsky's back unwatched, especially if his partner was hurt; and judging by the quiet gasps and pants behind him, Joey knew Starsky was in some considerable pain. "How ya doin', kiddo? How's your side?"

"Shut up, Joey," the curly haired detective warned. "Now do like I told ya, put your hands behind your back and do it slowly."

"Whatever you say, kid," Joey murmured, slowly lifting his hands from the wall to clasp them together against the small of his back. "I think Hutch might need some help, Davey. He probably ran into that mammoth thug who was hired to drive me here. He was waiting out back for me to finish the job and then he . . ."

"I said to stuff it!" Starsky snapped, silencing the older man for the moment as he grabbed the metal handcuffs from his belt and yanked one of Joey's hands up to slap it on. Though he didn't give away the anxiety he was feeling inside, the truth in Campanella's words made the hairs on the back of Starsky's neck stand on end. Just where the hell was Hutch, and why was it taking so long for him to get into the warehouse?

"Huuutch?" the dark haired cop called out, cinching one of the cuffs tightly to the taller man's left wrist, feeling bad inside as Joey winced in pain.

"S-Starsk?"

Not allowing himself to think of the repercussions or to feel any remorse, Joey didn't hesitate when they both heard Hutch's voice coming from the back of the warehouse. If he didn't get out of this now, it would be too late once the blond arrived. Moving quickly and instinctively, the lithe assassin twisted his arm out from the grasp of the dark haired detective, the glinting cuff dangling from his left wrist, while simultaneously turning his body to brutally elbow the curly haired cop into his hurting side.

"Ungh," Starsky grunted, eyes closing and fisting shut with the pain he felt as he went down, his body forcefully slamming into the dirty concrete flooring of the warehouse as he lost his balance. Immediately curling his body into the pain, Starsky gasped. Hot flaring stabs knifed into his side and tore into his ribs as the assassin quickly crouched beside him and almost reached out to touch him.

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted, hearing the quiet struggle near the front of the deserted warehouse. The blond pushed off the dizziness he felt as he ran, and then stumbled towards where he knew his partner needed him.

"Hut . . . Hutch?" Starsky stammered, grunting as he stubbornly tried to get up to his feet once more.

Sighing softly, long dark lashes closed briefly hiding pain filled green orbs before they opened once again to focus on the curly haired cop who had now risen to his knees. "I'm sorry, kid," Joey whispered; clasping his hands tightly together, only to forcefully bring them down against the back of the brunet's neck.

"I'm so sorry, Davey . . ."

Starsky thought he'd imagined the soft apology and the gentle touch from the man crouching near him, before the welcoming darkness pulled him under . . .

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. With just a quick read through, this story has been virtually unbeta'ed. Any errors are my fault alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

A/N: Aloha Everyone . . . I am back, and may I take this time, to give you my sincerest apology for taking so long to finish this story. Life has been hell, and it has been one long school year of never ending work. Now that I am finally on summer break for a few weeks, I will try to crank out more chapters. To be honest, I had even wondered if I should continue this story, but I think it really wants to be told. Thanks for putting up with me. Guess I will see if there is still an interest to reading this story by your feedback. Let me know if you want more. Take care.

Love and light to you all . . . Shawne

**Previously on "Shadows of the Past"**

Sighing softly, long dark lashes closed briefly hiding pain-filled green orbs before they opened once again to focus on the curly haired cop who had now risen to his knees. "I'm sorry, kid," Joey whispered; clasping his hands tightly together, only to forcefully bring them down against the back of the brunet's neck.

"I'm so sorry, Davey . . ."

Starsky thought he'd imagined the soft apology and the gentle touch from the man crouching near him, before the welcoming darkness pulled him under . . .

~ Chapter Seven ~

"_Joey, are you alright?"_

_Green eyes that were focusing intently upon his fingers, morosely lifted from the dried blood that had crusted under his nails. The handsome teen frowned, wondering silently how the blood got there in the first place. _

"_Joey?"_

_The distracted youth forced himself to focus upon the woman who stood before him, the dark curls and vividly blue eyes were so similar to that of his best friend. Thinking of Davey made Joey's gut hurt and took his breath away, like being suckered-punch in the stomach without a warning._

"_Joey?" Rachel Starsky prodded anxiously, her sapphire gaze following the teen's as a white clad nurse walked quickly past them down the hall. "Davey's okay. He's asking to see you now." Rachel reached out and laid a gentle hand upon the boy's shoulder, bringing his attention back to her. " He's worried about you, Joey. Do you want to go and see him? He's still awake."_

_Joey swallowed hard and stood, surprised at the jelly-like feeling that ensconced his limbs. "I uh . . . th-they took 'im through those doors," the shaken teen nodded towards the swinging portals the nurse had just walked through. "And they never came back to tell me anything, so I . . . I was thinkin' the worse . . ."_

_Rachel Starsky sighed softly, worry furrowing her brow as she looked upon the haggard youth, then pity softened her eyes as she gently pulled Joey into the warmth of her embrace. "There now, child," she soothed. "Davey's fine, thanks to you. He told me you rode with him in the ambulance and held his hand the hold way. I want to thank you for that . . ."_

_Joey sniffed and pulled from the comforting hold of Rachel's arms, guilt and remorse flooding his heart. The soft flowery scent of the woman's perfume made Joey suddenly think of his own mother, though the memory of her was vague and distant. He could still feel the phantom warmth of Rachel's arms around him as he said, "Don't thank me ma'am. I ain't done nuthin' to earn that."_

_Rachel frowned and cocked her head to one side as she eyed the handsome teen. "Davey said you found him at the park and if it weren't for you . . ."_

"_Yeah, I found him at the park," Joey interjected angrily, remembering the fear and helplessness he felt as he held Davey in his arms. "He was jumped by a gang . . ."_

"_Yes, yes, David told me," Rachel spoke quietly, trying to soothe the obviously frazzled boy. "He said if it weren't for you . . ."_

"_If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be here in the first place," Joey blurted out, hot tears of guilt and shame blurring the soft features of Rachel's face. "Th-they were lookin' for me, and they . . . they beat up Davey trying to get him to tell 'em where I was!"_

_Familiar blue eyes widened with shock, and then fear. "What? What do you mean they were looking for you? What did you do, Joey, to get them riled up like that? " Seeing the anguish on the youth's stricken face, Rachel fought to calm her racing heart and pushed the fear back deep within her troubled heart. Abruptly losing her husband just months ago to his violent demise, shouldering the responsibility of raising two young boys alone, and now dealing with an angry and belligerent son being jumped and battered on the streets nearly broke her resolve to stay strong. "This gang, will they try to hurt Davey again? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"_

_Joey lowered his head, looking at his scuffed sneakers. "I don't know if they're gonna try again. All I know is that the streets . . . they eat up little kids like Davey."_

_Rachel could almost hear the quiet confession of what was already happening to the young, bereft teen coming straight from his own lips, as he stood before her speaking in a soft, sad tone, and pity and compassion suddenly flooded her heart for the motherless boy. "Go on, Joey, get yourself in there before David falls asleep. They just gave him something for the pain, but he really wanted to see you, kept asking for you."_

_Green eyes shifted sadly to the shiny tiled floor, as the teen gave a quick nod. "Okay. I'll go see him," Joey whispered miserably, guilt and shame eating away at his conscience. "I just hope he can forgive me 's all."_

"_He will, Joey," Rachel smiled kindly, gently pushing the stray locks that had fallen into the boy's eyes. "Davey loves you . . . always has, and always will."_

Green eyes flecked with gold darted to the rumpled mess lying on the bed. The soft rustling of sheets and blankets made the silent assassin squint as he tried to see through the darkness of the room, but the soft groan that followed, made the handsome man take a few steps forward from the dark corner he had been standing in for quite some time now. The tall man dressed in black glanced at the glowing red numbers from the digital clock on the bedside table.

4:26 a.m.

Joey stepped closer to the bed as a soft gasp was heard from the detective who was lying waist-down beneath the covers, one hand over the blanket. Even from where he stood in the shadows, Joey could see the mottled bruises that peeked over the bandages that wrapped the brunet's left side. The familiar dark curls and the fan of lashes that spread across pale olive-toned cheeks made the seasoned cop seem suddenly young and vulnerable, and Joey's emerald eyes softened as he fondly stared at his longtime friend.

Starsky coughed, wincing in his sleep, his hand immediately lowering to cradle his aching ribs. The assassin instinctively reached out, wanting to soothe the sleeping man who was still obviously hurting, but Joey clenched his fingers closed and brought his fist to his side. It killed the taller man to see Davey in pain, especially because he knew he had caused it. Joey hung his head, ridden with guilt and shame, bringing back memories of another time he had hurt his friend, yet, that time had been unintentional. Had he known Davey would have had to bear the backlash of his clandestine meeting with Juanita, inciting Franco Rosetta's rage, then he would have never had that tryst in the first place.

He could say the same was true for this time too. If he had he known that Starsky was going to be at the warehouse when the hit went down, Joey doubted if he could have still pulled the job off; not if there was a possibility that Davey would see him, finding out who and what he really was . . .

The assassin sighed softly and closed his eyes, long lashes hiding the shame and remorse he felt inside. Hurting Davey had never been his intention, but his conscience berated him mercilessly anyway. He should have never come back to this house, standing here in the dark, like a shadow from the past, but the need to see if Davey was okay for himself drove him to take the risks of getting caught.

Joey sighed inaudibly, glancing at the window. It would be dawn soon, and the assassin knew he had to disappear into the shadows before he lost the opportunity to do so. He would have come sooner, but Hutch had just left an hour before. He had watched the silhouette of the tall detective walk down Starsky's front steps, enter the LTD, and then drive off in his battered car, all the while peering through a tangled mess of leaves from behind a distant hedge. The loud sound of Hutch's horn still rung in his ears as he waited for a few moments before the night stilled once more around him.

Breaking into Davey's house had been easy enough, too easy in fact, and had things turned out differently tonight at the warehouse, Joey would have made sure to properly secure Starsky's house himself to keep the brunet safe during times when he was vulnerable like this. The older man let out a soft breath and turned from the window to peer closely at his sleeping friend, surprised to see Davey glaring at him through the dark.

Blue eyes blazed for a moment, before growing soft and almost sad, a sigh escaped between the cop's dry lips. "Knew you'd come," Starsky whispered, thick, dark lashes lowering to hide the confusion he felt inside. He wanted to stay angry with the silent man standing in his room; he wanted to hurl accusations and point his finger at the way his longtime friend had lied to him and betrayed his trust. Yet, despite his volatile feelings, somehow Starsky just couldn't stay angry.

He had known Joey would come, could sense him standing in the dark corner of his room even as he fought to awareness and pushed away the heavy dredges of sleep that still clung tenaciously to his exhausted mind and body. Starsky lifted his hand and rubbed the corner of his eye as he blearily tried to focus on the looming shadow before him. "Joey?" the dark haired cop rasped, clearing his throat before he softly said again, "I knew you'd come."

"Hey, kid." Joey swallowed and took a few steps towards his friend, feeling immensely relieved that Davey would be willing to even talk to him after what he'd done at the warehouse. The quiet 'click' that suddenly reverberated around the still, dark room made the handsome assassin instantly stop, freezing in mid-step. Dark green eyes flicked to where Starsky's other hand would be, still hidden under the covers. The telltale 'lump' left little to the imagination and Joey knew that Starsky had his gun aimed right at him beneath the blanket.

The curly haired cop watched as the earnest look on Joey's face turned to one that was now stoically unreadable, and seeing that change somehow made the brunet feel almost regretful for some reason. "Why?" Starsky asked, releasing the breath he'd unconsciously held, stemming his hand from shaking as he clutched the gun tighter, pointing it at the assassin's heart.

The quiet query hung in the air and Joey had the grace to lower his eyes, unwilling to face the hurt clearly visible in his friend's cobalt colored gaze, for he could already plainly hear it in the timbre of Starsky's voice. So much doubt, confusion, pain, and betrayal were rolled up in that simple, solitary question, and it was all Joey could do to keep from running into the safety of the night. Instead, the tall assassin stood where he was and shrugged nonchalantly, though he never raised his eyes. "Dunno . . . guess I was good at it."

"Good at being a murderer?" Starsky winced as he sat up, holding onto his side as he pulled his piece from beneath the blanket, making sure to keep his aim steady and sure upon the person he'd admired and loved his whole life. Though he pressed his lips together to bite back the groan that wanted to escape, the brunet could see that his sudden movement succeeded in drawing that familiar green gaze he'd been waiting to see.

"You okay, kid?" Joey asked softly, taking a step towards his hurting friend.

"Don't move," Starsky growled.

Joey grinned and lifted a sardonic brow; a deep dimple appeared, seemingly to mock the injured cop. "Seems like you've been telling me that all night . . . that and shut up, Campanella."

The brief beginnings of a grin lifted the corner of the brunet's mouth, before Starsky immediately pulled it down once more into a frown. "Knock it off, Joey, this ain't no joking matter . . ."

"Wasn't tryin' to make a joke, kid," the assassin replied quietly. "Just stating a fact." For a moment quiet ensued, both men drowning in their own thoughts, the silence stretching loud and accusingly between them until Joey could barely stand it. Sighing heavily, the assassin finally broke the silence. "Look kiddo, I wish I could make tonight disappear, stop it from ever happening, but you and I both know that there's no such thing as wishes come true or fairytales."

Starsky swallowed hard, Joey's words taking him back to that night so long ago where they made a solemn pact and became blood brothers, the night where his best friend gave him the hope and the strength to start life over again without his mother and family . . . without Joey Campanella. The dark haired cop nodded almost imperceptibly and said, "Right. I remember. You told me a long time ago that life's a bitch, and that she don't care who she's being unfair to. Bad things happen all the time to good people and the only thing you can control is how you're gonna react to it."

Joey lowered his eyes once more as Starsky's words washed over him in the dark stillness of the room, taking him back to the night he'd found Davey sitting on the wooden crates in the back alleyway behind the neighborhood five and dime store.

"Remember telling me that, Joey?" the curly haired cop prodded, bright blue eyes scrutinizing every telling nuance that crossed the taller man's face.

"I remember." Joey softly replied, knowing what was coming next and bracing himself for his friend's words.

"Yeah?" Starsky questioned, the sarcasm almost dripping from that one word. "Seems to me like you forgot. Maybe life's been an unfair bitch to you, but I think you didn't do a such good job on the reacting part; or maybe you were just feedin' me a bunch of bullshit at the time?"

Dark green eyes lifted and locked onto sizzling blue. "I wasn't feedin' ya any bullshit. Everything I said to you back then was the truth. You were a good kid, Davey, and I wanted you to stay that way. You don't know how glad I am you did."

For moment Starsky could barely breath seeing the depth of caring reflected back in a pool of familiar greenish-gold eyes, but the brunet quickly steeled his heart from softening his resolve and he lifted his gun higher, aiming now at the assassin's head. "You're full of it, you know that, Campanella?"

Joey shook his head and said, "Every word I said to you back then I meant, kid. I would have never lied to you . . ."

"Maybe back then, but you've become good at lyin' now." Starsky sneered.

"Listen to me, Davey," Joey replied. "I'm sorry you had to find out who and what I am the way you did. I never wanted you to know that . . . never wanted you to see the . . . the killer I've become." Joey looked beseechingly at his one time friend, before a hard glint clouded the sincerity in his eyes and he turned his head to look at the window once more. "I gotta . . . I gotta go."

"You ain't goin' anywhere, Joey." Starsky reminded softly. "I got a gun pointin' straight at that hard head'a yours, or did ya forget?"

The handsome assassin turned to look at the man on the bed, eyes skimming over the bruised wrapped ribs before lifting to connect to cobalt blue. "You ain't gonna do it, kid," Joey said quietly. "With your ribs hurtin' ya, I could probably take that gun away from you before you could pull the trigger. And besides, you could never shoot me."

Starsky clutched the gun tighter, feeling his palm start to sweat. "Don't tempt me asshole," he growled. "I'm a cop, remember? I take down scum bags like you on a daily basis."

Joey grinned, dimples appearing once more, reminding Starsky of the street-wise boy he used to be. The taller man took a step towards the curly haired detective, seemingly daring the brunet to pull the trigger. "Go on then, kiddo. Let's end this now. Do me a favor and pull that trigger. It isn't like anyone's gonna mourn for me." Joey took another step towards the bed. "Go on. What are you waitin' for? You can't do it, can you?"

Starsky watched in disbelief as Campanella walked slowly to the edge of the bed and then reached over and gently removed the gun from his left hand. Green eyes melded to blue and for a moment, both men relived memories of times long past, before Joey finally broke his gaze, sticking Starsky's piece into the waistband behind his back. 

"I'll get your gun back to you before I leave town," Joey whispered. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Davey." The taller man slowly backed up, needing to escape before anyone found him here.

"Wait," Starsky called out, watching as Joey turned to look at him once more. "Do you . . . do you remember what I told ya that night in front of the five and dime?"

Joey cocked his head and frowned, his mind racing back to that night so long ago, but Starsky interjected before he could even grasp those fond memories that he'd treasured all these years.

"I told ya," the brunet whispered, his voice choking on the emotion he fought hard to hold on to. "I told ya that you were a good kid too, Joey. I know it in here," Starsky reaffirmed thumping his chest, his heart beating beneath it. "Still do."

Joey had no words to say, feeling overwhelmed by the emotion reflected in Davey's eyes. He shook his head in denial, but listened intently as Starsky continued.

"Just listen to me, Joey," Starsky entreated. "Yeah, you've done a lot of bad stuff that maybe you ain't proud of. You've probably been doin' things that gives you nightmares, but I know . . . I KNOW that you're still the Joey Campanella I used'ta look up to – that you're still good inside and I don't care what anyone else says. They can go fuck themselves!"

Joey snorted quietly at the brunet's words, remembering little Davey's strong sense of loyalty and he longed to reach out and ruffle the soft, dark curls on his friend's head like he used to. Yet, Starsky really had no idea how low he'd sunk and the horrific things he'd done in the years since he lost touch with his childhood friend.

"You were a good kid, Davey," Joey whispered. "And you've grown into an even better man. One that makes me proud to know that I've rubbed shoulders with a long time ago, and maybe even influenced a little . . . " The tall man smiled sadly and continued, "But the Joey that you remember died a long time ago. There is nothing good inside of me, Starsky . . . not after all the things I've done." Joey sighed and turned to leave, but the brunet's next words made him stop in his tracks.

"You can become a witness for the state. We can put you in protective custody until you take the stand to testify, Joey. You have a lot of information that the higher ups would be itchin' to get, names and dates that would help us get rid of a lot of bad on the streets. You could redeem yourself by doing this, by bringing some justice to those who deserve it."

Joey turned to stare at the dark haired cop who now sat at the edge of the bed, one arm across his mid-section holding his bandaged ribs. The taller scoffed, "They would never offer me a deal like that. I've done some things that . . . if they knew what I've done, they would never offer me a way out like that."

"Let me work on it." Starsky encouraged. "I'll talk to my Captain tomorrow morning. You just hang tight, stay here tonight and . . ."

"No," Joey interjected. "No, I gotta go. The sun'll be up in a few minutes. You can't be found harboring me. I won't do that to you, kid."

"Fine." Starsky said. "Just go underground and give me 'til noon, I'll have an answer for you by then. I promise." Blue eyes stared hard at green orbs flecked with gold, and Starsky could read the uncertainty hidden in its depths. "Just trust me one last time, Joey. I won't let ya down. I swear. Here . . ." The dark haired cop pulled a pencil and tablet out from the drawer of the bedside table and quickly scribbled something down. Tearing the sheet of paper loose, the brunet handed the note to the black clad man.

"What is it?" Joey asked, eyeing the torn paper.

"It's a number, dummy." Starsky grinned affectionately. "Huggy's a friend of mine. He runs a joint downtown, a bar and grill. I trust him with my life, and you can too. Call him after by 11:30 if you wanna do this, and he'll get in touch with me. I'll meet you wherever and whenever . . ."

Joey nodded, slipped the paper into his black glove and then tossed the gun he'd pulled from behind him onto the mattress where Starsky sat. "I'll think about it. Now get your ass back into bed." With that, the man clad all in black quickly disappeared out the window and by the time Starsky got to the ledge and peered out, his longtime friend was gone, swallowed up by the darkness outside.

"Damn!" Starsky rasped under this breath, feeling anxious and angry at the same time, as his eyes darted to and fro, trying to seek out any furtive movements that would indicate the direction Campanella took. 

"You think he'll go for it?"

"Dunno," Starsky quietly replied without turning around, his fingers clenching tightly to the curtains beside him. "This is the best chance he's got, but the idiot might be too pig-headed to even realize it."

Hutch sighed as he silently slid out of the closet and made his way over to his partner. He could feel the brunet's anxiety and contained rage and his heart went out to his friend. Sliding his hand up the rigid line of Starsky back and resting it on the brunet's shoulder, Hutch reminded, "Well, Dobey was the one to suggest Joey going State's witness when we went in to give the low down on what happened at the warehouse. He said if they could do it for his uncle, then Joey could probably be offered the same deal."

"Yeah," Starsky huffed, finally turning to look at the blond when he felt Hutch squeeze his shoulder in sympathy. "I heard him. I was there, remember?"

Hutch snorted, grinning sheepishly in the dark, light blue eyes twinkling at his partner's sullen annoyance. "Well, I wasn't too sure how much you got. You were pretty banged up at the warehouse and all."

"Yeah? Well if I remember right, that hard head'a yours took quite a knock too. I mean it took you long enough to get there!" Starsky replied, a slow grin spreading across his face as he glared over his shoulder at his smug partner.

Hutch laughed and said, "Hey, the guy was a gorilla. What can I say?"

Starsky snorted softly and replied, "Bet the ape's hand must be broken now; I kinda feel sorry for the guy!"

Hutch laughed. "Funny, Gordo, real funny coming from a man who has a harder head than me. Now get your ass back in bed like Joey told you," Hutch smirked, pointing his finger at the mussed up bed. He watched as his dark haired partner climbed obediently back from whence he came. Leaning down to pull up the covers over Starsky, and after making sure the wounded man was tucked in nicely, Hutch sat at the edge of the bed and lifted the receiver of the bedside phone to his ear.

"Who ya callin' at this hour?" Starsky asked, glancing over at the alarm clock. "It's just before five. Somebody's gonna hate you for sure."

Hutch snorted as he listened to the phone ringing on the other end. "Calling Huggy. Need to tell him our plan worked and I have to make sure that he didn't damage my car in any way."

Starsky rolled his eyes at his partner's last comment and then moved over onto his good side, closing his eyes as he smirked, "Nobody would even notice if there were any extra dings on that thing you call a car," the dark haired cop snorted. "And don't forget to check if Huggy is up to date on his tetanus shot, after all, he took a big chance driving that rusted tin can! After tonight, we're gonna have'ta owe him big time!"

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. With just a quick read through, this story has been virtually unbeta'ed. Any errors are my fault alone.


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